


Thyme after Thyme

by chisomo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Bigotry & Prejudice, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plantboy!Phil, Slow Burn, Witch!Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 59,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chisomo/pseuds/chisomo
Summary: Dan Howell runs an apothecary shop in the heart of London, a city wrought with rising tensions between witches and normal humans. Dan tries to ignore the daily instances of prejudice towards his kind and keep his magical abilities a secret, but his life is irrevocably changed when a garden shop is opened next door by a certain sky-eyed young human.





	1. The Raven

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I kinda wrote this all on Microsoft Word before working up the courage to post it...yay insecurities! But I've read fanfiction for years and I sort of figured it was about time to try it myself. So even if this is shit (and I'm 112% sure it is)... at least I tried. I could really use some constructive criticism so please comment any useful tips! Enjoy!

“Let’s see…definitely some boswellia, to bring down the inflammation…” Dan trailed off, muttering to himself as his fingers brushed across the dusty bottles crowded onto the shelves that lined the walls of his workshop. A small pot bubbled away happily on the stove in the corner.

He pushed aside several jars of bay leaves to find the small green vial he was looking for and, after rolling his eyes at his own disorganization, began to grind the resin into a fine dust with a battered-looking mortar and pestle. He tipped the powder into the pot, which promptly turned a rather violent shade of purple.

Dan was trying to perfect his salve for soothing arthritis, which was popular among the elderly customers at his apothecary shop. Of course, they didn’t know that their salves and remedies were made with a bit more than simple garden plants and herbs. Dan was a witch, and the healing potions he made were created with anything from snake eyes to sunflowers.

It was certainly hard work, trying to grow obscure plants that were only commonly used in witchery in window boxes and a tiny patch of garden out back, since he really didn’t have much of a green thumb. However, he was able to coax his plants along with a bit of magic and ordered what ingredients he couldn’t grow from faraway suppliers.

“Hmm…it could use some cat’s claw…Hey, Peri, have you seen the cat’s claw anywhere? Besides on your own paws that is.” Dan grinned at his joke, turning just in time to see the black cat perched on the windowsill give him an unamused look in response to his attempt at humor. Undeterred, Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her and found the jar of dried leaves relatively quickly.

He stirred the concoction absentmindedly as he looked out the window. Tendrils of dark clouds were twisting in the sky as a faint breeze rustled the leaves on their branches. Dan felt a sense of calm spread through him as he watched the world outside when suddenly, he felt a spike of apprehension from Peri sweep through him.

Without warning, a huge raven slammed into the windowsill out of nowhere with a huge crash, rattling the glass in its panes. Dan flinched, striking his hand against the pot and crying out at the sudden pain. He stumbled backwards, the spoon in his hand falling to the ground with a clatter.

Peri scrambled to the floor and scampered behind Dan, hissing angrily at the bird. The raven cocked its head and for a moment, pierced Dan with its coal black gaze before cawing loudly and flying off just as quickly as he had come. Dan swallowed hard.

Another raven. They had been showing up everywhere over the past couple of weeks, with increasing frequency. It didn’t make sense.

Ravens were more common in Wales or the north Peninnes, but never London. It was far from normal to be seeing them here, and especially so many...there was only one real explanation for this. But…no. No. Not now.

Dan shook his head forcefully, trying to dispel the web of doubts that threatened to tighten around his brain. He took a deep breath, running his hand through his brown curls shakily, and bent down to his feet, where Peri was still in a wary ball. He smoothed away the tension in her taut spine with a gentle hand and she meowed at him gratefully.

“It’s ok, Peri-the raven’s gone now. It was just a crazy bird, don’t worry about it…just a fluke…” Dan’s words were more to reassure himself than the cat, who was already padding back to her place on the windowsill.

A sharp twinge of pain sparked in Dan’s hand, and he looked down in surprise to see a burn there. Peri meowed again, sensing the pain Dan felt. He strode over to the windowsill to where his aloe vera plant was sitting next to Peri and broke off a tip of one of the leaves to rub the cool sap on the burn.

Dan and Peri had a connection that wasn’t common even in the world of witchcraft. They could feel strong emotions from each other, such as when the other was in danger, in great pain, or even extremely happy. It took very powerful magic to bind animals and humans together in this way, yet Dan had felt the bond from the moment he caught sight of Peri in an alleyway a few years ago.

He had felt a wave of sadness and pain wash over him as he stared into her glowing eyes for the first time, and before he knew it, he was picking up the tiny kitten, small enough to fit in his hands at the time, and taking her home. He didn’t know how it was possible the bond between them was already there without any of the usual rituals being performed to create a connection, but he had stopped questioning it long ago.

Peri was his closest friend and confidant, even though she couldn’t talk, and he wouldn’t give her up for the world.

Dan sighed and returned to stirring his salve, peering out of the window once more as he did so. The clouds were getting darker, and the faint breeze from before had grown stronger. A sense of foreboding rose in the young witch’s chest for the days to come. The appearance of the raven only heightened what was an increasing sense of apprehension in Dan.

In the divination side of witchcraft, one Dan personally didn’t care much for, the ebony birds were often considered to be symbols and…Dan didn’t even want to think about what they were supposed to symbolize. Divination was stupid anyway-all vague guesswork and hazy crystal balls. He forced his thoughts to return to the arthritis salve.

“Now, maybe some eucalyptus…”


	2. The Flyer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I may have a few of these chapters prewritten already...which is the reason I'm uploading the next two today. And I deeply apologize for the lack of a certain angel bean so far- he's coming very soon I promise. If you have any useful thoughts, please let me know!

Dan idly swirled the tea in his cup, watching the lukewarm brown liquid splash against the sides as he sighed to himself. The shop was particularly slow today, with only Mr. Bates and his usual order of migraine reliever since that morning. Dan took another gulp of tea and glanced out the window for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Still unusually cloudy and windy, even for England. It was days like today that he almost wished he had someone to talk to other than Peri.

Sure, she was great, but the unavoidable fact was, well, Peri was a cat. While more introverted than most people, Dan did sometimes miss being able to talk and even laugh comfortably with another person.

However, his magic prevented most people from being able to get too close to him, as many people were prejudiced against it, and Dan couldn’t take the risk of anyone finding out about his powers. If it was made public that he was a witch, there was no way anyone would ever frequent his shop. He sighed yet again and rubbed the burn on his hand from yesterday absent-mindedly.

           A rumbling from outside drew his eyes to the front windows of his store, where he could see a moving van had pulled up in front of the shop right next to his. _What was this?_ No one had owned that shop or the apartment above it for years.

A battered blue pickup truck was pulled up behind the van. Dan strained to try and see who had been driving, as he assumed it was probably the owner. Try as he might, he only caught a glimpse of a red jacket and a flash of dark hair before the person was out of sight behind the van.

Dan watched with interest as the movers began to carry out various pieces of furniture, as well as quite a lot of…plants. Big plants, too, not your average moderate houseplant in a pot. He continued craning his neck in hopes of catching a glimpse of the owner. A few minutes later, however, a haggard looking mother with a red-nosed, crying child hurried into his shop in search of a treatment for “quite a nasty cold, if I say so myself, and it simply won’t go away!”

             By the time he had sent them off with an essence of elderberry and mint (mixed with a dash of lizard blood, for heartiness) that he had inscribed with a simple healing rune, Dan could no longer hear the sound of the mystery owner conversing with the movers outside.

“They must’ve gone inside, Peri,” he told the cat, who was currently happily snoozing away atop a shelf of foot fungus salves. Dan picked up his teacup to carry it to the sink, glancing down at the tea leaves that were left. He froze.

The dark leaves were unmistakably arranged into the shape of a bird. A… _a raven_. Dan inhaled rapidly, then dropped the cup in to the sink with a crash, flicking the faucet on and letting the water clear away the leaves.

“It…it doesn’t mean anything,” Dan said out loud to himself. His voice sounded too loud in the stillness of his shop. He turned on his heel. The walls of his shop, normally enveloping Dan in comfort and familiarity, felt like they were closing in on him. “Hey, Peri, hold down the fort for me, okay?”

            He strode over to the door, tugging his jacket on, and stepped outside. A blast of wind caught him immediately, tangling his brown curls beyond repair and ripping through his thin jumper. He hurriedly zipped up his jacket and, digging his hands into his pockets, began to walk down the street.

London passerby bustled by him, bundled against the unusually chilly fall day. Clouds churned in the sky, promises of changes to come. Leaves twisted in front of him the ground, dancing and whispering of new things in the wind. Signs were everywhere and it was all Dan could do to ignore them. The witch walked with his head bent down, only raising it when a pair of boot-clad feet stopped in front of him.

He looked up to find a girl about his age standing before him. Blond hair fell in a sheet down her back and a white-toothed smile was in place on her face, even though her large hazel eyes looked unfriendly. “Hi,” she said abruptly.

Dan felt himself smile back automatically out of politeness, but remained confused. “Er…hi?” He replied. “Rally this Thursday night at the Cenotaph! Be there!” She shoved a flyer into his hand and, in the next moment, she was pushing past him and walking on. Dan’s eyes fell to the flyer in his hand, and…oh.

He felt his stomach drop as he scanned the flyer.

“Take Back England! Down with Magickind!” was written in bold letters over a picture of a hideous old woman in a pointed hat burning the Union Jack flag, surrounded by skulls. Stark black words marched across the bottom of the page- “They do NOT belong here!” Dan felt something twist in his chest as the words swam in his eyes.

 _Even here?_ This neighborhood had remained relatively quiet throughout the recent riots. No one had protested in favor of witches and their kind, of course, but no one had demonstrated in favor of getting rid of them here, either. Dan had thought…well, hoped really, that it would remain so. Damn the kernel of optimism left inside him.

The truth was, people who possessed magic were commonly seen as a lower class at best, and sub-human monsters incapable of anything other than destruction at worst. The tensions between the two sides had been rising for years, century-old distrust rekindling and beginning to flicker ominously.

Many people in England wanted them out of the country completely. He stomped over to the nearest trash can as quickly as he dared, and hurriedly dropped the flyer inside before he did something stupid like ball it up and chuck it at that girl’s head. Outrage flared in his stomach.

Why could they not see it was possible for regular people and magickind to live alongside each other? His magic didn’t make him a monster-he used it to heal, for God’s sake! Angry heat crackled under his skin and Dan looked down to see a couple sparks shoot from his fingertips.

“Shit!” He jammed his hands back into his pockets and whipped his head around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, everyone was hurrying along on the crowded street, too intent on getting through the cold to notice him. Dan forced himself to take a calming breath and turned back in the direction of his shop. He _had_ to get better control of himself!

He was an adult witch- he shouldn’t be letting his emotions control his magic like that. Especially…especially with that new owner who had showed up. They could be a member of one of the anti-witch organizations for all Dan knew.

          Still…curiosity burned inside him as he neared the shop next to his. The moving van was still there, more plants and furniture being transferred inside. Dan’s feet slowed as he walked past the previously dark storefront, now lit from within and bustling with movers. He still couldn’t see the owner, though.

Maybe he should…go inside? Welcome the new owner and all that? Dan took one step in the direction of the shop before losing his nerve and hastening past it.He couldn’t bring himself to face the possibility of another witch-hater, not right after that girl.

He swept into the warmth of his apothecary shop instead and found it as empty as he had left it. Peri padded up to him, weaving between his legs as he walked to the desk. Dan knew she had felt the spark of anger from him earlier.

“I’m fine, Peri, really I am. It was just…,” he sat down heavily, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “Just another flyer, that’s all.” Flyers and signs just like the one he had just thrown away, even graffiti messages, were all over the city. _Just another flyer_.


	3. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably my favorite chapter to write, honestly. It's also really freaking long...I may have gotten a bit carried away. Please enjoy and let me know any criticisms you may have!

      Dan was beginning to think it would take divine intervention or, at the very least, a nuclear explosion before he would ever meet the new owner. It had been almost a week since he had almost walked into the shop next door, and that had since remained the closest he had gone to entering.

He had baked a batch of rather lumpy muffins, under the vague impression that you were supposed to greet new neighbors with food, but had only gotten one foot out the door before losing his nerve and ended up giving them away to his customers instead (all of whom had given their muffin a wary glance before taking it reluctantly). He wasn’t much of a baker anyway.

Twice, Dan had seen the same battered blue truck pull up in the street and had gotten up from behind his counter with every intention of going to greet the mystery owner. However, the first time, a customer had come in at the exact same moment and Dan was forced to help them instead.

By the time the customer had gone, Dan had lost all of his previous courage. The next day when the same thing happened, Peri had knocked over three bottles of carrion flowers and Dan had had to tend to that before their foul smell filled his whole shop. And then…a customer had come in.

At this point, Dan was sure the universe had it out for him.

 He cast a longing glance at the door. “Why am I such a coward, Peri?” She simply rolled her eyes at him and resumed licking her paws in a patch of sun. Dan sat up suddenly. This was stupid. All he had to do was walk out the door, go into the shop next door, and introduce himself. _No big deal_. Finding new resolve from these thoughts, he scanned the shop for something he could use as a welcoming present.

Jars of headache relievers and cough remedies greeted him. Okay, no.

His eyes alighted upon a small pot on the windowsill, in which a wild geranium was thriving. Dan already knew that the new owner liked plants, if the sheer number of them he had seen going in to the shop was anything to go by.

Even better, the pink flowers of this plant were often used in amulets for happiness and prosperity. Dan had been growing the plant for its useful properties in helping along pregnancies and safe births, but no matter.

Taking the pot carefully into his hands, Dan tried to quell the nerves that rose in him as he walked towards the door. Balancing the pot, he was marching out of the shop and down the street determinedly when a black shape caught the corner of his eye and he turned and-wait was that a raven sitting on the awning over his shop behind him?

 _Seriously?_ “Bloody birds…” Dan muttered to himself, turning back around just in time to- _CRASH!_

       Dan felt the geranium fall from his hands as he smacked right into an object that appeared to have materialized in front of him. Off balance, he stumbled forward, knocking over and falling on top of…a plant? An enormous, leafy monster of a plant, in fact.

Dan landed face first on top of the plant as they crashed on the ground. He spat out a mouthful of leaves and tried to push himself up, scraping his hands on the rocky pavement. The plant emitted a sort of low groan just as Dan had succeeded in pushing himself off of it, and…wait.

Plants didn’t make sounds, and- he looked down at the pair of legs he was currently sitting on- nor did they have legs. Dan scrambled off of the legs as the person they were attached to managed to dislodge the plant from atop their chest to reveal disheveled inky black hair, a dirt-splattered apron, and a fiercely bleeding nose, their eyes screwed up against the pain.

“S-sorry! I wasn’t really looking where…” Dan trailed off as the guy pushed himself up onto his elbows and opened his eyes and _oh_.

Summer sky eyes took him in and Dan felt helpless underneath their piercingly blue gaze. So this was the new owner.

With a start, Dan realized that on his first encounter with him, he had _literally knocked the guy onto the ground oh my god_ and he hurriedly stretched out a hand, stuttering over more apologies as he helped him up. “No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” the guy chuckled as Dan helped him to his feet.

“I couldn’t see where I was going either…this bloody plant…” he made a helpless gesture towards it and laughed a bit, turning and smiling at Dan. Too nice, too warm for someone who had just gotten a bloody nose, Dan couldn’t help but think. He also couldn’t help but think that the guy’s smile was a little bit like a snatch of sunshine and _shit Dan was blushing this was NOT GOOD_.

      “I’m Phil,” blue eyes said after a moment, and his voice was startlingly Northern and Dan realized he may have been staring for a moment too long and panicked momentarily before saying, “I’m Dan,” in reply, eyes falling to the mess around them.

Phil inhaled rapidly and Dan’s head snapped up to see him pressing his hand to his still bleeding nose. “Oh, here, let- let me…” Dan took an uncertain step forward, then made a decision at the sight of Phil’s face, taut with pain.

It was a rather stupid decision, given his awkwardness and the fact that this would only prolong it, but there you have it.

“I own that shop just over there, let me help you,” he gestured over his shoulder. “I’m an apothecary, so…well-versed in medicine and all that.” Dan smiled uncertainly at Phil, who dropped his hand and to Dan’s surprise, nodded.

“Okay, yeah, thanks. I just moved into the shop beside yours and I don’t have much in the way of first aid about at the moment.” He smiled (again!) at Dan and crouched down to pick up his plant.

“Besides-” he groaned at its weight as he got up,” besides, we’re neighbors now! Got to get to know each other, don’t we?” He peeked around the mass of leaves. “In case my shop goes up in flames or gets taken over by zombies or something.” Dan grinned in spite of himself and leaned down to collect his geranium, the pot miraculously unbroken but devoid of most of its dirt.

 Phil set his plant down beside the door and Dan led him over behind the counter, where he sat him down and told him to tip his head slightly forward and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Dan dashed into the back room and collected a washcloth, running it under cold water before he practically ran over to Phil, who was looking around the shop with interest. Dan bent forward and gently began to clean the blood from Phil’s face, holding his breath as he brushed the cloth over his nose, chin, lips.

He didn’t dare meet his eyes- _summer sky-_

Phil let out a sound of pain as Dan touched his nose, and Dan frowned. What if it was broken? “Can-” his voice was hoarse.

Dan cleared his throat and tried again. “Can I check to see if it’s broken?” Phil nodded and Dan lifted his hand. He let his fingers ghost over the bridge of Phil’s nose before making the mistake of looking to see if Phil was okay.

Blue, blue, _blue_ eyes were trained on him- so close. Dan gulped, quickly looking away, and pressed down the side of Phil’s nose.

“Umm, I think you’re good- seems straight enough to me.” The corner of Phil’s mouth lifted. “That’s a relief.” Dan nodded rather stupidly and backed away.

“I’ll- I’ll just go get an ice pack then,” he turned and walked as quickly as he could to the back room. After instructing Phil to hold the ice pack in place and continue pinching the bridge of his nose if he could, Dan hovered nervously.

“Um, so what kind of shop are you opening, then?” he tried to fill the silence.

“A garden shop, actually,” Phil replied, his voice a bit muffled. “Going to sell, well, plants, obviously. Gardening supplies and plant books, et cetera.” That explained all the plants, then. Dan nodded- _stop nodding like an idiot!_ \- and made a pointless sort of gesture.

“Cool- that’s cool,” he cringed internally and berated himself for being such an inarticulate twat. “I actually grow a few things to use in my remedies and such.” There, that was a decent response.

“Don’t have much of a green thumb, though,” he added, chuckling weakly. “Good to know I’m not competing with another garden shop, then.” Phil nodded at the numerous plants around the shop. “Yes, of course,” Dan replied faintly. Silence fell again and Dan did the only thing he could think to do- make tea.

When he had returned with two mugs full of tea, he found Peri on Phil’s lap, rubbing her head on his chest. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, that’s just my cat- she’s a bit over friendly.”

Phil, who had abandoned holding his ice pack in favor of petting Peri, looked up and grinned. “She’s adorable. What’s her name?” Dan handed Phil his mug. “Perimede- Peri for short.”

In response to Phil’s confused look, he continued by way of explanation, “A witch in Greek mythology who was an expert in herbs,” (and poisons, Dan added silently to himself, but Phil didn’t need to know that).

“I just thought it was appropriate, since a lot of herbs go in to what I do,” Dan gestured to the shop around them.

He looked over at Phil nervously. If he was a witch hater, now would be the time for him to express his distaste at naming a pet after a witch, even if it was a mythological one. Phil simply nodded and smiled at the cat on his lap.

“A pretty name for a pretty cat,” he cooed at her, and Dan let a drop of relief warm him. “Stop, you’re going to make me vomit,” he said good- naturedly. Phil just chuckled and reached for his tea.

“Oh, by the way, I infused your tea with a bit of yarrow.” Dan nodded at Phil’s cup. “It allows your blood to clot more quickly, so it should help stop the bleeding.” Phil regarded his cup with a hint of suspicion. Dan rolled his eyes, “Go on, it’ll still taste good- I promise.”

Phil raised his eyebrows, a smile playing about his mouth. “Well, if you promise, then…” he sipped the tea experimentally and Dan watched as his eyes widened.

“Wow-ok. I take back any doubts I had before- this is sinfully good tea.” Dan smirked, “Oh it is, is it?” Phil took another sip and made a noise of appreciation deep in his throat that made Dan’s cheeks warm. “Well-good,” Dan said belatedly.

Annoyed that Phil had stopped petting her, Peri meowed loudly from his lap. Phil chuckled and scratched her chin as he took another look around the shop. “So, you sell…” he squinted at one particular bottle, “…wart remover?”

“No!” Dan yelped, then sighed. “Well, yes, but that’s not all of it. I help people with migraines, arthritis, colds, joint pain…” he trailed off. “…and warts,” Phil finished cheekily.

Dan gave him a mock-glare. “My work here is of great importance,” he proclaimed, letting a bit more of his Southern accent filter into his voice. “I’m practically curing cancer in here.” Phil rolled his eyes, smiling. “Didn’t know I was speaking to the Queen now,“ he shot back.

Dan smiled evilly, “Better the Queen than an angry drunk person.” He stopped breathing as soon as the words left his mouth- _oh god that was far too offensive Phil was going to hate him for sure_ \- but Phil only laughed again, shaking his head- another drop of relief made its way down Dan’s spine-and looked down at Peri.

“How do you live with him? He’s so rude!” Peri meowed in commiseration, and Dan sipped his tea to hide his smile. How long had it been since he had joked around so easily with someone like this? He looked at Phil, who had progressed to holding a conversation with Peri and was voicing her replies in a high-pitched, squeaky tone.

Who was this guy?

Porcelain skin and honeyed laughter and something close to perfection was sitting on a chair in Dan’s shop and all he could do was hope against hope that it lasted.


	4. The Reminder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to make myself stick to an update schedule...we'll see. Anyway, this is another monster chapter (can you tell I tend to get carried away) with a teensy bit of angst...but I'm a slut for angst so I can only promise more to come sorry

Over the next couple days, Dan caught himself glancing toward the shop next door as he mixed potions and inscribed one healing rune after another. His interactions with Phil since had been limited to nods and smiles as they both went about their business, Phil busy with opening his shop and Dan trying to keep up with countless orders of sinus-clearers and throat-soothers as cold season set in.

He had been watering his bloodwort when he let his mind drift off and…ding!

The door to his shop swung open and Dan jolted as he realized he had been staring at Phil’s shop again and was close to drowning the poor plant. He quickly set down the water pitcher and wiped his hands on his apron, walking over to his counter to see a mousy looking middle aged woman peering around the shop.

“Hello!” he called out. She started at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him, nervously tucking her thin hair behind her ears.

“Yes, hello,” she replied in a wavering voice, her large glasses making her look a bit bug-eyed. “My niece said I could find a cough remedy here?” she came a bit closer to Dan and he realized that she was older than he had first thought, apparent wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.

He nodded and came around from behind the counter. “Sure, sure- that’s a popular one this time of year.”

      He walked over to a nearby shelf and waved towards a line of bottles. “I’ve got thyme and sage teas, which strengthen your lungs…a garlic and lemon infusion for a stronger dose…and my own personal concoction, which I call the cold-killer.” He paused and chuckled, looking over at the lady, but she showed no reaction.

Dan cleared his throat, “Anyway, it’s a mixture of bay leaves, onion, cumin, ginger, and pepper. I’ve also included quite a bit of raw honey, which soothes the throat and helps cover up the taste.” Dan chose not to mention that he had cast a simple healing spell on it as well.

He glanced at her again. She simply wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, glasses winking in the light. “Um, so do any of those sound good?” he tried. “I can assure you- the cold-killer has a pretty high success rate.” She nodded slowly, “Well I suppose it’s worth a try.”

Dan let out a small sigh of relief and plucked the bottle from the shelf, walking back over to the register to ring it up. The woman fidgeted with her sleeve as he punched in the amount. “I’m a bit nervous, you see,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve never tried…holistic medicine before.”

Dan gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’s all perfectly safe. Just common herbs and plants mixed together, that’s all,” ( _and healing magic_ , he added to himself silently). “The worst that happens is that you don’t really like the taste.”

He wrapped up the bottle and set it in a bag. “I’ve been complimented on how good my remedies taste, though,” he added with a wink, trying to put her at ease. What he had never told his customers was that he often used a teensy bit of magic to help the potions taste sweeter.

“So…are you the owner, then?” she asked timidly. Dan nodded, handing her the bag. “That’s right! Owned this place for a few years now.” He pointed to the bag, “Ok, so take a teaspoon of that with your tea or just by itself twice a day and you should be feeling better within a few days.”

She nodded quickly and grasped the bag, holding it away from her as though there was a slightly dangerous creature inside. “Well, thank you,” she said, turning away. “No problem. Come back soon!” he called as she went out the door.

      Dan rested his chin on his hand. He was used to customers being a bit wary of his natural remedies, but she had seemed more nervous than most. His attention was quickly drawn by the sound of a muffled crash that sounded as though it had come…from next door.

 _What was that…?_ He half-rose from his seat. Should he…see if Phil was okay? Would Phil even want to see him again?

Dan shook his head. He was just being a good neighbor, that was all. He strode over to the window and tried to see over into the shop, but to no avail. He would have to go in. Like...in person. And actually _talk_ to Phil.

Despite Phil’s friendliness towards Dan, Dan couldn’t help but still be afraid of his awkwardness coming out in full force and scaring Phil off for good. And call him crazy, but the thought of never having that soft smile directed at him again made Dan feel a bit sick.

But with that smile held in his mind, he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside. He paused in front of Phil’s shop to admire the recently acquired sign that read, “Sage Against the Machine.” Dan chuckled in spite of himself, rolling his eyes at the terrible pun, and pushed open the door. He stepped inside slowly and took in the shop around him.

Pots of flowers with trailing vines hung from the ceiling, bookshelves with gardening supplies and plant books lined the walls, and tables crowded with succulents and sunflowers alike were situated throughout the store. Everywhere Dan looked, flowers trailed lazily and leaves waved gently. It was, in a word, absolutely lovely.

He let his fingers trail across the flower closest to him, a tiny, barely-there flower with impossibly blue petals that reminded him of… “Dan! Hey!”

      Dan looked up to see Phil walking towards him, sleeves rolled to his elbows and a bit of dirt smeared on his forehead and sea glass eyes crinkled in a smile and Dan had to force himself to keep breathing for a moment. “Hey Phil,” he replied, returning his smile. “Pretty, isn’t it?” Phil nodded at the flower Dan had been admiring.

“Cornflower. It’s actually native to England- used to have tons of them here before, well, modern agriculture got in the way. Not many left now.” Dan studied the plant, definitely not thinking about how well it matched Phil’s eyes. Phil rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry…I tend to randomly spurt facts about plants quite a lot.”

Dan shook his head, “No, it’s okay! It was interesting.” Phil gave him another smile and crossed his arms. “So what brings you to Sage Against the Machine?” Dan started, remembering his reason for coming in the first place.

“Oh! No- actually, well…are you ok?” he blurted out. “Um, I mean, I heard a crash and I was worried a box fell on you or something.” Phil chuckled, “More like a plant nearly killed me.” Dan raised his eyebrows, “They’re turning on you already? I suppose it was only a matter of time.” Phil scoffed, “I’ll have you know I have a very good relationship with my plants.”

Dan nodded mock-seriously, “Yes, so good, in fact, that they try to kill you.” Phil shook his head, smiling, “Well, are you going to help me or not?”

“I suppose, considering how good of a neighbor I am,” Dan replied and Phil rolled his eyes good-naturedly before leading Dan to the back of the store. They stepped into a small storage room, where Dan could see an assortment of boxes, several shelves of plants, and…yet another huge plant on the floor, surrounded by dirt and leaves.

“I’m getting a sense of déjà vu, here,” Dan remarked. Phil shook his head sadly, “My poor plants. They keep getting dropped.” He crouched next to it and looked up at Dan. “Help me lift it and put in the shop?” Dan nodded and knelt next to the plant.

“Ok, on three!” Phil declared. “One, two, three-” “Jesus Christ!” Dan exclaimed, arms straining under the sudden weight of the plant. “Bloody hell, what’s this thing been eating?” he panted as they stood and started to shuffle out of the room. “Water and light, mostly,” Phil replied breathlessly.

To his horror, Dan felt his arms start to shake as they got to the middle of the shop. Luckily, Phil directed him to set it off to the side in the same moment, and Dan stepped back in relief.

“Philodendron,” Phil said after a moment, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and succeeding in smearing the dirt there more. “Quite a successful houseplant.” He turned to Dan, “I’d offer you tea in thanks, but all I’ve got at the moment is coffee. That ok?” Dan smiled, “That’d be great.”

 And that was how he found himself fifteen minutes later, stirring too-sweet coffee in a chipped One Direction mug (“Don’t ask,” Phil said in response to his questioning look) and laughing too hard as Phil recounted other incidents where plants had “honestly attempted to murder him!”

All too soon, Dan was reminded of the fact that he had left his shop unattended save a certain black cat. “Well, I should probably get back to the shop,” he said reluctantly, pushing himself up from where he was sitting on the floor (“Sorry, don’t have much in the way of seating yet,” Phil had remarked, plopping down onto the floor) and setting his mug on the desk. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Phil got up as well. “Wasn’t as good as your tea.” Dan shrugged on his jacket. “Yes, well, my tea is pretty spectacular. Don’t feel too bad.” Phil followed him to the door. “Hey, thanks, by the way,” he said, leaning on the doorframe. “For helping me move the plant…and checking to see if I was alive.”

Dan shrugged. “Well, I didn’t want a dead body lying near my shop. The smell would put off the customers.” Phil laughed and Dan let the warmth of the sound wash over him as he stepped outside. “Bye!” Phil called out the door, before stepping back into the light of his shop.

Dan looked over his shoulder. “Bye, Phil,” he said softly, turning and walking forward.

 Warmth spread through his chest, and he closed his eyes, smiling slightly as he let the lightness from his conversation with Phil carry him towards the shop, for once not letting himself think about the fact that this ease couldn’t last long, not with his magical tendencies and Phil’s…well, normalness.

He had just reached the door when he saw a group of people clustered around a shop a little further down the street. Dan frowned, something telling him this wasn’t right.

He walked over slowly, coming to a stop behind the group, which had progressed to arguing amongst themselves. Not for the first time, Dan cursed his height, which was infuriatingly short for his age, and tried to push to the front. Being a relatively slender guy, he was quickly able to slip through to see…oh no.

Dripping red letters screamed from the shop window, “DIE WITCH”. The glass had been bashed in on the other side and the door hung from its hinges. Dan swallowed hard and backed away, the words already painting themselves onto his eyeballs as he pushed past the people and stumbled back to his shop.

He slammed the door behind him and wrapped his arms around himself. _Not here, not again, please_ …This neighborhood had been safe for so long, and now…The taint of hatred was beginning to stain it and Dan couldn’t stand it.

 _This is the world you live in,_ he reminded himself harshly. _You have to get used to it._ He looked towards Phil’s shop. It would be foolish of him to forget the possibility that Phil was a witch hater, too. He had to remember that he didn’t know Phil, not really, and letting his guard down could be fatal.


	5. The Beginning (of something)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am terrible at updating I apologize. Also this is actually a really short chapter (mostly because I made a conscious effort not to get carried away with dialogue and descriptions of Phil's eyes).

     Two days later, Dan stood in front of Phil’s shop, not entirely sure how he got there. But he went in regardless and Phil gave him a surprised but altogether _pleased_ smile. They sat on the floor and drank too-sweet coffee again and Dan divided his time between laughing at Phil’s stories and trying not to stare too much at cornflower eyes and how Phil’s jumper hugged his shoulders.

And the next day, he looked up from bottling more migraine reliever to see Phil stepping into his shop, clad in skinny jeans ( _God bless skinny jeans,_ Dan thought fervently to himself) and a dazzling grin, declaring he needed more of Dan’s tea before he “died from sheer deprivation!”                                                                                                                               

     So Dan, shaking his head and trying not to look too ecstatic, went to make tea to appease Phil, who had already progressed to puppy-dog eyes before Dan agreed.

He came back to find Phil sitting in his seat and lavishing affection on Peri (was it too ridiculous to feel jealous of a cat?), so Dan dragged out another chair from the back and hid his blush in his cup as Phil groaned in approval of the tea.

They sipped tea and discussed their favorite plants and favorite everythings and Dan was tempted to pinch himself twice, just to make sure that Phil was actually here, in his shop, and actually listening to Dan rant about the medicinal versatility of herbs.

And that was how their daily routine of going to each other’s shops began.  They drank tea at Dan’s and coffee at Phil’s and laughed far too much at both and it was the beginning of…something.                                                                                                                                                            

    It was on one such day that found Dan cross-legged on the floor of Phil’s shop, balancing his mug of coffee on his knee, head tipped back as he stared at the plants surrounding them. He looked over to the door and his eyes fell on the cornflower that had caught his eye on his first time in this shop.

Its petals were still impossibly blue, still a perfect match for Phil’s eyes, but…it was _huge_ now. It had only been, what, a couple weeks since he had seen it first? He may not have been a plant expert like Phil, but he definitely knew it took more than a couple weeks for flowers to grow that much.

“Phil?” he asked without taking his eyes off the flower. Phil looked up from where he was watering a fern. “Yeah?” Dan tilted his head, “That cornflower is gigantic…how’d you get it to grow so fast?”

Phil walked over to Dan and looked at the flower, too. “Well, I’ve been taking really good care of it, for one. And there is of course,” he looked down at Dan and winked, “my secret plant food formula.” Dan raised an eyebrow.

“What’s in this ‘secret plant food formula’?” Phil wagged a finger at him. “I’ll never tell.” “What, are you using illegal plant steroids or something?” Dan replied amusedly. “Because that’s the only thing I can think of to make plants grow that fast.”

Phil shook his head, smiling. “What part of secret don’t you understand? And no!” Dan started, “Well-”“Secret!” Phil cut in, lifting a hand. He mimed zipping his lips before spinning on his heel and walking back over to his fern. Dan rolled his eyes at his back, unable to keep a small smile from slipping onto his lips.                                                                                                                                                                                                       

   Days slipped by in this vein, Dan catching himself smiling at random points in time as he remembered a particularly funny anecdote of Phil’s or Phil’s impression of the grumpy old man living next to his shop.

He tried desperately to hold on to the usual distance he kept between himself and everyone he met, but it was _so_ hard when Phil could coax a laugh from Dan so easily and said his name like that- like it was sugar on his tongue.

Dan was drunk on ocean eyes and the sound of Phil’s laugh and he could feel himself slipping too fast into being too comfortable with Phil too soon and... that was a little bit scary.

Okay, maybe it was a lot scary. He tried over and over to remind himself that Phil was not like him- Phil was a normal human being, who had no idea what it was like to be thought of as a monster by half of England. Phil himself might even think witches were monsters.

But every time Dan tried to pull back, Phil would do something infinitely lovely and infinitely _Phil_ , like giving Dan a tiny cactus when he mentioned offhandedly that he didn’t have any succulents in his shop, or showing up on his doorstep with a lumpy blue yarn hat that he had knitted for Peri (because, “ _Yes_ , Dan I knit, alright? Hey- there’s no need for you to laugh so hard! It’s a very manly hobby!”) and then Dan would be bowled over with a wave of fondness and forget all about his resolve to distance himself from Phil.                                                                                                                                                                             

    However, it was at nighttime, when he was away from Phil and alone with his restless thoughts and the newspaper, that he would feel ice cold slivers of fear penetrate his chest as he read about stores that had been owned by suspected witches closing down and anti-witch demonstrations taking place in the streets.

What was more, the ravens hadn’t stopped. Every day as he opened shop, he could see them flocking among the telephone lines, and every day as he closed up, they cawed from the rooftops. They taunted him from the trees as he walked to and from Phil’s shop, and Dan had taken to keeping his head down at all times, so as not to see them.                                                                                                                                                     

     Late one night, he had finally succumbed to an urge deep within him that had started the moment he saw the first raven. He had reached for one of his few Divination books and flipped to the section on animal symbolism.

He had to know if what he was thinking was right. Sure enough, as the page fell open to ravens, Dan had read what he had been dreading all along.

The birds were a symbol of prophecies, and changes to come, perhaps even…death. With the sparking tension in the city, Dan was sure the changes the ravens symbolized couldn’t be good. He shut the book quickly and thrust it to the very back of the shelf.

Bloody Divination. It didn’t matter- that kind of magic wasn’t reliable at all. Or at least, that was Dan tried to tell himself.

However, he had stopped looking at his tea leaves long ago. No matter how much denial he tried to dig himself into, Dan could feel the city straining under the weight of the rising storm, and he was so unbearably worried that it would collapse.


	6. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one week- crazy, right? The last chapter was pretty short though so I wanted to make up for it. I hope you like slightly angsty backstories...

“Hey, Dan?” Phil spoke up from where he was folded into an old armchair of Dan’s that he had started dragging out for Phil’s visits. “Yeah?” Dan replied, looking up from rubbing Peri’s belly. Phil was silent for a moment, his profile soft in the dim evening light.

“How old were you when you opened up this shop?” Dan swirled the tea around in his cup before replying, “Twenty.” Phil turned and gave Dan an incredulous look. “That’s so young!”

Dan half-smiled. “Well, it wasn’t too bad. I adapted pretty quickly.” He looked down at the tea in his mug, swirling it idly. “And- well, it helped that I inherited it from my uncle, because he taught me a lot about how to run it…and stuff.”

Phil looked surprised. “Oh, I didn’t know you inherited it from your uncle! That’s cool- did he retire and give ownership to you or something?” Dan’s grip on his mug tightened and his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. “Not exactly…I got the shop when he died.”

 _Damn,_ he hadn’t meant to give away that much information. Dan’s past, like his magic, was far too personal for him to be able to share it easily. Damn Phil and the effortless way he was able to loosen Dan’s tongue. “Oh- I’m so sorry Dan, I shouldn’t have… god, that was stupid of me, I’m sorry,” Phil said, his voice low and blue eyes earnest. Dan waved away his apology. “It’s okay, we weren’t really that close.”

He didn’t say how his uncle had been all he had left, after… _stop it Dan._

“How about you?” he asked quickly, trying to steer the subject away from his past. “Is this your first time owning a shop?” Phil nodded, smiling. “I seem like such a slacker compared to you,” he said lightly, perhaps sensing a bit of Dan’s tension.

“Twenty-eight and just now opening a shop!” Dan looked up at Phil suddenly. “I didn’t know you were twenty-eight,” he said, surprised. Phil nodded. “Yup. Why, how old did you think I was?” Dan shrugged, sipping his tea. “Oh, I don’t know, 45? 50, perhaps?”

Phil nudged him with his toe, grinning. “Oi, rude much?” They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, savoring their drinks.                                                      

        “How old are you, then?” Phil asked suddenly. Dan looked up to see him staring intently at his tea. “Twenty-four,” he replied. Phil’s eyes snapped to Dan. “What, really?” Dan nodded. “Only…wow. I didn’t know you were that young,” Phil said, his eyes wide.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Only four years younger than you, you twit.” “Watch who you’re calling a twit, twit,” Phil shot back. Dan grinned. “Wow, Phil Lester, the king of comebacks.”

Phil shook his head, a smile in place on his lips but a thoughtful look in his eyes as silence ensued. “Weren’t you scared?” he asked softly after they had sat quietly for a bit. “Running a shop all by yourself at that age, I mean.”

Dan traced a pattern on Peri’s fur. She blinked warmly at him, sensing the emotions that were swirling inside him.

“Yeah,” he near-whispered. “Like, a lot. I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to help my customers well enough, or that I would mess up their medicine and hurt them, or that I would go out of business because no one trusted a twenty-year-old to make their cough remedies, or that…well, you get the picture.”

Phil nodded furiously. “Well, that’s perfectly understandable! You were much braver than I would have been.” Dan smiled at him gratefully. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t too bad, because it had actually been my dream since I was a kid. To grow up and be an apothecary like my uncle, that is.” “How cute,” Phil grinned. “Shut up,” Dan mumbled, a blush threatening to color his cheeks.                                                                  

He cleared his throat and desperately cast about for something to change the subject again. “Well, how about you, then?” he blurted.

At Phil’s questioning look, he expanded, “Did you always want to own a garden shop?” Phil tilted his head back, thinking. “No…I wanted to be a weatherman when I was younger, actually.” Dan chuckled, “Really, Phil? A weatherman?”

Phil tipped his head to look at him. “Hey, you’re one to talk! What kind of a kid wants to be an apothecary?” Dan held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I suppose you’re right. Continue, please.”

Phil smirked and returned his gaze to the ceiling. “Ummm…as I grew up I got more and more interested in plants, but my parents really wanted me to follow in their footsteps and go into the family company- an accounting firm.” “Ew,” Dan said at once without thinking.

He winced, “Er, sorry, I didn’t- rather, what I meant was-” “It’s ok, Dan,” Phil interrupted with a small laugh. “I feel the same way. But…I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I tried. I really tried. Took a gap year to intern at the firm before going to university, got a degree in accounting and everything, even worked at the firm for four hellish years…” Phil paused. “God, I hated that job,” he said, almost to himself.

“Finally I got so sick of it that I told my family I wanted to open a garden shop instead.” Phil took a deep breath. “They…didn’t take it well, if I’m being honest. A lot of shouting.” He gave a weak laugh that made something twist painfully in Dan’s chest.

“But…they came around eventually. Kind of.” He turned to give Dan a half-smile. “One perk of working at the firm was that I was paid pretty well, though, so I had a good bit of money saved up. And after a year of working odd jobs I was able to buy my shop!”

He waved in the general direction of said shop before smiling sheepishly at Dan.“Wow, I’ve been talking for ages, haven’t I? Sorry…”

“No-no! It’s okay, really,” Dan said hurriedly. “Your parents sound kinda strict,” he continued, more softly. Phil shrugged. “I suppose…they just care a lot, I think. Want me to have a good future and all that. I think they really wanted me to be happy at the accounting firm, but I just couldn’t.”

He nodded at Dan. “Well, what about your parents? What are they like?” Dan’s breath caught in his throat and he looked away. “C’mon, they can’t be as bad as mine!” Phil wheedled. Dan cleared his throat. “They- they aren’t really around anymore. Died when I was fourteen.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

He didn’t meet Phil’s eyes, suddenly becoming very interested in a crack on the floorboard. Silence stretched thick around them, threatening to choke Dan until he felt a sudden nudge at his ankle from Phil’s foot.

He looked up to see blue eyes locked on him, concern tracing the lines of Phil’s face. “Hey- I’m sorry.” Phil’s voice was low and drenched in apology. Dan drew in a breath. “It’s fine,” he said, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper. He pasted a smile onto his face, knowing that Phil would probably see through it, and stood up quickly.

“Here, let me get your cup.” Phil let him take his cup without pushing the subject or saying anything else, and he was hopelessly grateful for that.                                                                                                         

Dan kept replaying their conversation throughout the rest of the day. Usually it was relatively easy for him to brush off questions about his parents with a vague lie, but he hadn’t wanted to lie to Phil, wasn’t sure he could have even if he had wanted to.

He didn’t regret telling Phil, even though it was yet another piece of his past left open and exposed, but remembering his parents was always like opening old wounds for Dan. Or rather, rubbing salt into still-healing wounds that were now a decade old.

His chest felt like glass for the rest of the day, fragile and ready to splinter. So it was a relief when the clock finally read 6 pm, meaning he could start to close up. Dan had just started to sweep the floor when he heard the bell ring, signaling the arrival of a customer.

 _Seriously, now?_ He closed his eyes and took one steadying breath before moving out into the open to greet the customer.                                                                         

He saw with a bit of surprise that it was the mousy lady from a couple weeks ago. “Oh, hello again!” he said, leaning on his broom. She jumped, startled by the sound of his voice before turning to face him. “Good evening,” she said hesitantly. “Have you come back for more cold killer, or…?” he prompted her.

She started, like she was just remembering her reason for coming in. “Oh, yes! It actually worked!” she thrust the empty bottle towards him. “I’ve experienced a great improvement.”

Dan chuckled and took the bottle from her. “I’m glad to hear it worked out for you.” She followed him cautiously as he walked towards the counter, snagging a new bottle of cold killer on the way to ring up for her. “I was, well, a bit wary at first. But…I was very pleased with it in the end.”

Dan smiled warmly at her as he rung up the new bottle. “Well, that’s very good to hear, ma’am.” He started to wrap up the bottle. “Oh! Could I possibly try, or rather, would you happen to have any…sore throat soother? You see, I often get sore throats with my colds, and…” she trailed off, her voice going quieter in uncertainty.

Dan nodded and walked over to where he had set up his sore throat soothers on a nearby shelf. “Sure! I make my own peppermint cough drops, which help soothe your throat pretty well, and I have a mixture of chamomile, licorice root, and honey that works really well, too.”

The lady wavered, obviously unsure. “How about I start you off with some cough drops, and if they don’t do the trick, you can move on to the mixture?” Dan tried. She started to nod, then shook her head. “No, I’d prefer the mixture actually.”

Dan grabbed one of the vials, resisting the urge to sigh. He just really wanted to get up to his flat and relax. He rung up the vial for her as well and was wrapping it up when she spoke again. “Do you make all the remedies here by yourself?”

Dan put everything in a bag, handing it to her as he responded, “Yes, it’s all homemade!” She nodded and said, “Well, thank you.” “Sure, come back soon,” Dan called as she walked out the door.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she was gone and immediately locked the door behind her. Rain lashed down in sheets outside and Dan shivered as he looked at the gray outside world, instinct dragging his gaze over to Phil’s shop.

Come to think of it, it was truly a miracle that Phil was able to keep his plants thriving as well as they were in the dreary, sunless English weather. He didn’t have any special lighting that Dan could tell, and there weren’t many extra windows in his shop, either.

Dan gave a mental shrug- Phil just must be really good at growing plants. Right now, what Dan needed most was a book and a warm meal, and both would soon be available in his flat.


	7. The Resistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tad more angst this time...*grins evilly* also I tried to change the format so it's easier to read- hope it helps!

The first time Dan heard about it, he was in his flat, stirring a pot (it was vegetable soup, not a potion, for once) on the stove and letting the news run on the TV as he cooked.

He’d pretty much stopped listening, letting the sound of the TV fade into a pleasant murmur in the background and humming to himself, when he heard it.

“Reports of a suspected pro-magickind resistance group in London were finally confirmed on Tuesday.” Dan dropped his spoon into the pot and ran over to stand in front of the TV. “…Not much is known about them yet besides the fact that yes, they exist, and yes, they are pro-witch and pro-magic. We were not able to get a statement from them for now but we are still trying to get in contact with them as we speak. Now, on to a story from Manchester…”

Dan realized faintly that he had ended up on his knees in front of the flickering screen. He slowly got to his feet, switching off the TV.

A pro-witch resistance group in London? It was almost unheard of, especially since… _no._ He refused to think about that now. Dan walked back into the kitchen, staring unseeingly at the spoon that was now half-submerged in the soup. He was dumbfounded.

Even after what had happened, even with the rising tensions in the city, the waves of hatred towards witches, they were still…fighting back? Still protesting?

And as if that wasn’t dangerous enough, their existence was becoming public knowledge? It was so incredibly… _stupid._ Like, honestly.

They had to know that London was quickly becoming more and more dangerous for witches-even if you didn’t take into account all the crazed witch hunters out there, who were technically doing so illegally, but were hardly ever caught or even punished.

People were becoming more and more suspicious of witches and the recent anti-witch demonstrations were only one example of that. This so-called resistance group was just asking for trouble.

Unbidden, an image of Phil finding out Dan was a witch came to his mind, blue eyes full of disgust and betrayal as he looked at him.

Dan shook his head, trying to dispel any and all lingering thoughts about the resistance group and Phil, and focusing on the fact that his spoon was now completely submerged in his soup. “Damn…”

 

The next time Dan heard about it, he and Phil were sitting side by side on the floor of Phil’s shop, leaning against the wall. Phil was flipping through the newspaper, reading aloud an advertisement that he’d seen for a cat harness and immediately decided Dan _had_ to have.

“You can take Peri on walks, Dan! It’d be amazing- she probably doesn’t get enough fresh air as it is, living in a city like this-” “She gets plenty of air,” Dan muttered defensively. “-and just how imagine how cool it would be!” “She would absolutely hate it, Phil,” Dan pointed out, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice.

Phil shook his head enthusiastically. “No, it says right here that cats love it! This one even slept in his! And…”

A piece of the newspaper fell from in between the pages Phil was holding and landed at Dan’s feet. He picked it up as Phil continued to expound upon the clear benefits of a cat harness and read the first few words of the article casually. _Wait._

His heart stopped for a second and he tensed as the words registered in his mind. “Suspected member of pro-magic resistance group has been missing since last Sunday…Workplace reported him as missing from work since that Monday…Still unclear what exactly transpired…”

Dan’s free hand curled into a fist and he dug his nails into his skin, hard enough that he knew there would be marks there later. _So stupid, so stupid, why couldn’t they ever learn?_ _Fighting back will gain you nothing._

The same old constant, dormant fear tightened around his throat like a vice and his fingers trembled as he folded the newspaper back up. Phil sensed the sudden change in Dan, as he’s gotten scarily good at reading him by now, and began talking about mindless things to distract him.

Dan let his shoulder touch Phil’s, just for one weak moment, and he let the sound of Phil’s voice wash over him, warm and comforting. He was able to breathe a little bit easier after that, but his hands didn’t stop fidgeting with his sleeve and his thoughts remained distant for the rest of the time he was there.

That night, it felt as though jagged pieces of glass were stuck in Dan’s throat and he let himself cry, just for a little while. Peri sensed the sadness that lay in his bones and curled up on his chest as he fell asleep that night, her weight heavy and reassuring.

 

The next day, a frail-looking young man came in early in the morning, telling Dan about his strange symptoms and pleading with him to try to come up with a cure, or at least treatment. Apparently, none of the doctors he had seen could do anything for him.

It was a difficult case, and Dan could not have been more glad for the distraction. As he flipped through his endless stacks of messy notebooks, full of notes on the properties of plants, and ancient potions books, Dan was able to lose himself in the problem at hand.

 He was starting to think that the poor guy’s disease was the result of a curse, which had of course become exceedingly rare as of late. According to the customer, they had become weak and malnourished, fading away with no apparent reason just out of the blue. A sickness with no clear triggers was often a clear mark of magic.

Dan rifled through an old spell book, letting it fall open to “Curse of Illness.” He barely repressed a shudder as he read over the method. It was an old curse, with primitive rituals. The spellcaster had to feed a rat poison, then slit its throat and write the name of the person they wanted to curse in the rat’s blood.

Then came an odd sort of chant (weird chants being typical of older magic) that involved calling upon the dark powers of hell and all that. What Dan was really interested in, though, was what it did to the victim.

Sure enough, it promised to slowly kill the victim by taking away their vitality, which had obviously manifested as incurable malnourishment in this particular case. The only problem left now was to try to figure out a way to end the curse.

Which was a lot easier said than done, if Dan was being honest. Muttering to himself about possible potions, Dan began to gather ingredients.

 

And…that was how Phil found him six hours later, dark curls wilder than ever and feverishly stirring his cauldron. “…Dan?” Phil said after a moment. Dan, who had his back to him, jumped about a foot in the air and dropped his spoon, whirling around.

“Jesus, Phil, you scared me half to death!” he cried. He tried to calm his racing heart. If Phil had walked in while he was in the middle of casting a spell…Phil wrinkled his nose as he looked around the room, notebooks laying in haphazard piles and various bottles strewn all over the counter.

“Dan, what are you doing?” Dan had gone back to stirring the pot. “I’m…okay, this customer came in and he really needs help and none of his doctors can do anything and…I’m trying to come up with a cure.” Dan paused, casting a defeated look at the cauldron’s contents.

“He’s really bad off, but…nothing is working and I’ve been at this since half-nine and I swear I’m really trying, Phil, I just…I don’t know if I can do it.”

And all of a sudden, the knife-sharp glass was back in his throat and the emotions he’d been trying to keep down all day, all night, rose inside him and _god please don’t let him cry, not now, not here, not in front of Phil_. He felt rather than saw Phil come up behind him and place a hand onto Dan’s arm.

His touch was impossibly gentle, just like everything else Phil did.

“Dan, it’s okay,” he said quietly. “You’re expecting too much of yourself here. You- you can’t beat yourself up like this.” Dan drew in a shaky breath, feeling it rattle inside him. “I know, I just- I can’t just let him die,” he said, knowing even as he said it that this was not just about the customer.

He’s been in situations like this before, with the customer wholeheartedly depending on him, and even though it’s hard on him every time, it’s never felt like this before.

Dan turned to look at Phil. His breath caught in his throat and for a minute he forgot about the shittiness that was life sometimes. Phil’s gaze was unbearably soft as he looked at Dan, the afternoon light turning his eyes into stained glass and his skin into marble- Dan thought later that he looked as though he belonged in a high-ceilinged cathedral rather than the disheveled backroom of Dan’s shop.

“You’re not letting him die,” Phil said fiercely. “You’re _not_ , Dan. You are literally working so hard to try to help him- that’s the opposite of letting him die.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” Dan almost whispered, and he wasn’t sure when they got to this point, where he’s baring his insecurities before Phil and Phil is, unbelievably, still here, still talking to him and trying to make him feel better.

Phil shook his head, “If I know you, and I think I kind of do, actually, you’re going to put your all into this. And that’s- that’s all he can ask for. Your customer, that is. Some people…” Phil went quiet for a second. “Some people can only be helped so much. And you can’t blame yourself for that, Dan. It’s not your fault.”

 Phil’s hand was still on Dan’s arm, and it felt as though warmth was emanating from it throughout Dan’s body, faint hints of electricity and promises in the air. Silence and things left unsaid curled around them like smoke until Dan spoke at last.  “Thanks, Phil…just-thank you. For-yeah.”

It was nowhere near what Dan wanted to say, like _how do you always know exactly what to say to me_ and _you’re so full of goodness that it makes my heart hurt sometimes_ but then Phil smiled at him and let his hand fall from Dan’s arm (Dan desperately tried to tell himself he didn’t want it back).

So instead Dan made him tea and Phil asked about the medicinal benefits of rosemary, because of course he knew that it would calm Dan down, and things were…a little bit more okay.


	8. The Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually considered splitting this into chapters because of how long it is...oh well. Anyway yayy actual shit is going down in this chapter, because contrary to how it may seem, I DO have a plot! (TW for blood and serious injuries)

“Dan, what…?” Blue eyes turned dark and icy with anger pinned Dan to the wall and he couldn’t look away. “You can’t be serious…” Dan felt tears gather in his eyes. “Phil, please just-” “No!” Phil shouted and his hands were on Dan’s shoulders but they held none of their usual gentleness and his fingers were digging into Dan’s skin and Dan was _terrified of him_.

 “I trusted you!” Phil cried, still holding Dan against the wall. “I trusted you and you just…. _betrayed_ me,” he continued, his voice shaking with anger. Dan shook his head frantically, “No, no, I would never-” “Stop!” Phil cut him off.

He took a deep breath. “Just…stop talking. I can’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth, not anymore.”

Phil dropped his hands- _finally_ \- and Dan was sure there were going to be bruises left in their place. Phil shook his head, blue eyes still knife-sharp as they stared at Dan in utter disgust. “I can’t believe I ever even thought we were friends. You’re not even human. You’re a monster, Dan. A monster.”

 _BEEEEP BEEEP_! Dan shot upright, breathing as though he’d just run a marathon. He looked around and saw that the angry Phil of just a few moments earlier was gone, replaced by the familiar bookcases and windows of his room, as well as… snow.

Snowflakes were swirling around his room in thick flurries and all Dan could do was sigh. _Not again._ He ran shaking fingers through his brown curls. “Just a dream…just a dream,” he whispered to himself.  Dan wiped tear tracks from his cheeks- now that was new. He didn’t think he had actually cried before.

 Peri bounded into the room a second later, green eyes wide and waves of worry rolling off her. She had obviously sensed his fear and sadness from the dream. “It’s okay, Peri, it was just a dream,” he said reassuringly. She leaped onto his bed and nosed his chest, making sure he really was okay.

Dan let her, petting her head and looking around at the blanket of snow that covered his room, dreading the cleanup that was to come.

Once she was satisfied he was okay, she licked his hand in apology for not being there sooner. Dan smiled and touched his nose to hers. “Peri, it’s okay, honestly, it was just the stupid dream again.” She purred at him, grateful he was alright.

Dan sighed and lay back in his bed. He had had the same dream every night for over a week, and he didn’t know how much more he could take of it.

 It was soul destroying to see such betrayal and disgust towards Dan reflected in Phil’s eyes every night. Every morning, he woke up to snowflakes all around him, which was, of course, caused by how upset he got during the dreams, when he was asleep and couldn’t control his magic.

He just felt lucky that he hadn’t set his room on fire by accident yet. Peri had taken to sleeping with him every night, just to make sure he was okay, but she must have had to go to the bathroom or something today.

The longer Dan came to know Phil, the more scared he got about Phil finding out his secret. He had been lying to him for weeks, even months now, and he could feel black tendrils of fear climbing up the walls of his ribcage with each passing day. He couldn’t stand it if Phil pushed him away after finding out he was a witch.

What was more, Phil could tell everybody and Dan would be ruined. It would be so much easier if he could just stop being friends with him.

But Phil had quickly become one of the brightest things in Dan’s already pretty gray life, and no matter scared Dan got, he just couldn’t distance himself from Phil, no matter how hard he tried.

Sometimes, late at night, shaking and on the verge of tears left over from another dream, he would let his brain concoct a scene where he told Phil he was a witch, and Phil just hugged him and told him that it was okay, that he didn’t see Dan any differently.

And so what if those dreams sometimes included an innocent kiss or two…it was Dan’s brain, after all.

But he knew deep down that that scenario would never happen, and it was foolish to even hope for it. Dan sighed yet again and forced himself to roll out of bed, even though a glance at the clock told him it was only five a.m.

The upside to getting barely any sleep due to nightmares was that he had gotten tons of work done in the past few days as he tried to distract himself from both his internal problems with nightmares and external tensions in the city, which were, of course, growing worse.

Unbelievably, he was _still_ getting visits from the ravens, although he had gotten a lot better at ignoring them. He was starting to consider using a banishing spell, but the logistics of that would be difficult, as he would have to perform it out in the street.

And in a city like London, he couldn’t be sure he would be alone even at three a.m. So for the foreseeable future, Dan was stuck with the damn ravens.

 He padded into his kitchen, yawning sleepily, and turned on the kettle. Coffee was starting to become his main life source recently. Dan sipped the steaming liquid slowly as he stared out the window without really seeing anything.

Today was the day his customer from a week ago was coming to try out his cure.

Nerves twisted Dan’s stomach as thoughts began to race around in his head. _What if it didn’t work? What if it made his condition even worse- god, what if it killed him?_ “Stop it!” Dan growled into his empty kitchen, the sound rattling around the room.

He set the mug down and headed back into his room in search of clothes. He needed to take his mind off of all of this as soon as possible, and work was the only available outlet at the moment. Once he was clad in some jeans and a faded green jumper, Dan headed into his workshop, tying his apron around his waist as he went.

He passed the early morning hours feverishly whipping up batch after batch of cut ointment and burn salve. It was hard, tiring work and his arm muscles were screaming from all the mixing he had done by the time he was finished. Dan had just finished washing out his cauldron when he heard the bell to his shop tinkle.

 Drying his hands on his apron, he stepped out to see the customer who had come in for the miracle cure. Dan walked towards him, noting how he looked weaker than ever, his clothes too big on his body. “Hello, sir.”

The man’s eyes snapped to Dan and he took a hasty step forward. “Yes! Hello! Where you able to, you know…find a cure?”

The hope in his eyes made Dan feel sick. He quickly retrieved the mixture he had finally come up with at four in the morning two nights ago, after days of working. The mixture had every curse-repelling plant he had been able to find: chamomile, sage, nettle, and snapdragon, and countless healing and curse-blocking runes were inscribed over the bottle.He had even waved a selenite crystal over it, for god’s sake.

In short, it was the best Dan could do. He could only hope it was enough.

Dan handed the bottle to the man in silence, watching as his eyes lit up. “Listen, it might not work,” he burst out. The guy nodded, but Dan could tell he wasn’t really listening. “No, please…just don’t get your hopes up, okay?” The man looked at him. “It’s okay if it doesn’t work, don’t worry. Thank you for trying.”

Dan could only nod. He was just about to ring it up when- _CRASH!_                                

The horrible sound of metal grinding together came from right outside of Dan’s shop. Dan’s eyes met the man’s for one brief, panicked second before they both ran to the door. Dan got there first, pushing outside and _oh shit._

Dan froze, struggling to believe his eyes as he stared at the scene before him. A huge SUV had run straight into the back of a blue truck, ramming it straight into a telephone pole and completely smashing in the front and _wait that was Phil’s truck oh god Phil oh god oh god-_

Dan’s thoughts twisted into one, incoherent mess and all at once he registered that he was moving, sprinting towards the truck, desperately pleading to god knows who that Phil wasn’t in the truck, that it had just been parked on the side of the road or something.

Distant voices were shouting to call 999 as he tried to see inside the truck. The other driver was still in his car, but was upright and seemingly uninjured. Dan heard the sound of an engine revving and _holy shit the other driver was actually going to drive off._

Dan felt a surge of scorching red anger sweep through him. _How dare they? How dare they fucking drive off, the coward!_ “Hey! Stop!” Dan shouted, stepping closer, but it was too late. With one last panicked glance around, the driver backed out into the road and sped off.

Dan felt a scream of frustration build in his chest when suddenly, he caught sight of a flash of black hair over the steering wheel in the truck.

He ran over to the door, vaguely aware of someone crying out Phil’s name in a strange-sounding, broken voice. Dan tugged on the handle, trying to get Phil out of there, but it wouldn’t budge. He could see him, slumped over the steering wheel, the windshield shattered.

Dan realized a moment later that the person crying Phil’s name was him.

 _Breathe, Howell._ He had to get it together, had to help Phil. There were people coming closer now, and all Dan could think was that he had to get Phil into his shop, had to do his best to heal him _._ He rammed the door with his shoulder before putting all his weight into pulling on it and _yes-_ the door swung off its hinges.

A sob hitched in Dan’s throat as he stared at the terrible image before him.

Phil looked a doll, lifelessly flopped over the wheel, his shock of black hair littered with glass. _Keep breathing_. Dan had to hurry. He really didn’t want to do any serious healing magic in public, but he would if he had to. He reached out and carefully slid Phil off the seat and into his arms.

 Looking back on it later, Dan would have no idea how he managed to carry Phil, who was both taller and heavier than Dan’s slight build, but his adrenaline-high brain thought nothing of it at the time. Dan hurried into his shop, shouting, “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor!” at the nearest panicked passerby before ducking inside.

 Dan laid Phil onto the floor of his shop. It would take too long for the ambulances to get here- he needed to help Phil now. He noticed his customer from before standing in the doorway.

“Go! Call 999 or get someone-something!” Dan shouted at him. The man nodded quickly, eyes wide, and disappeared outside. Dan looked back to Phil and _fuck._

Phil’s face was deathly gray and blood trickled down his cheek in thick red rivulets. _Breathe breathe breathe._ Okay, it was most likely a head wound, since Phil was unconscious. Dan ran trembling fingers through Phil’s hair to search for the wound, barely noticing as the glass in his hair sliced Dan’s skin.

His fingers stopped when he found the source of the blood-what felt like a severe head injury.

Dan made the mistake of looking at Phil’s face again. Phil’s blood stood out in stark, sickening contrast against his porcelain skin. _It’s normal for head wounds to bleed a lot, just focus._ There was no time to consult his notebooks.

Dan could only think of one kind of healing magic that was strong enough to heal wounds as serious as this one. It was a kind of magic he had only tried once before, and…it hadn’t worked last time.

Dan forced those thoughts from his head and sprinted to the back room to grab the quill he used to inscribe his runes. He kneeled behind Phil’s head. Placing the tip against his hand, he thought desperately once last time- _please let this work-_ before piercing his skin with the sharp quill.

Gritting his teeth against the wave of stinging pain, Dan etched a burning white healing rune into the palm of his left hand before doing the same to his right. He then placed both palms against Phil’s wound and began to chant, his voice heavy with desperation and worry.

_Please let it not be like last time._

Dan’s hands felt like they had been set on fire as white-gold magic coursed through his veins and from his palms to Phil’s head.

 Each and every nerve in his body sparked as the magic rushed through him. Dan felt himself grow steadily weaker as he let his own energy be ripped from him and infused into Phil, healing the wound gradually. _Please please-_

Dan’s internal pleas broke off as the pain built and his vision grew hazy. _Focus!_

He couldn’t give up now, not when he was so close to healing Phil. When he felt he was only a second from passing out himself, the flow of the magic finally trickled to a halt. Gasping for breath, Dan let his gaze fall from where his fingers were buried in Phil’s hair to his face, silently begging that he wouldn’t be dead.

Dan’s heart stopped. Brilliant blue eyes were staring back up at him, wide and completely awake.


	9. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter where shit goes down and actual action occurs- shocking, right?

_Oh fuck. Phil saw. He definitely saw me doing magic fucking shit shit_ \- Dan scrambled away from him clumsily, his limbs too weak to work properly.

Phil furrowed his eyebrows. “Dan? What-” “Don’t talk!” Dan practically shouted. “You- you need tea!” Dan backed away from him quickly and stumbled into the backroom. His legs were shaking with the effort to hold himself up, but he barely noticed.

_Phil saw me doing magic- he knows he knows he knows..._ The same thought ran around and around in Dan’s head. Maybe…he could convince him he made it up. Like an injury-induced hallucination or something…it wasn’t much of a story, but it would have to do.

Dan fumbled through the bottles on his shelf until- _there it is._ He tipped the contents into a cup of freshly made tea and forced his aching legs to carry him back to Phil. “H-here,” he said shakily, holding out the cup to Phil, who was propped up on his elbows.

Phil took the cup but didn’t drink. “Dan, wait-” “Please just drink your tea,” Dan cut him off, voice beseeching. “It’ll help.” Phil drew his eyebrows together, but, perhaps hearing the hint of a beg in Dan’s voice, drank without further argument.

Dan watched as he took a large swallow of the tea. Phil opened his mouth to speak again before he looked down at the tea in confusion. “Dan, did you-” he fell back against the floor a moment later, deeply asleep. Dan choked back a sob. He had just _drugged_ Phil.

The poppy seed extract had done its job- Phil would be out for a good nine hours. “I had to do it,” Dan whispered to himself. He needed time-to hide all evidence of magic, to prepare himself to lie to Phil for the first time since meeting him, and to recover himself.

A sudden gentle touch to his hand had him looking down to see Peri staring up at him, green eyes wide with worry. She no doubt had felt his pain and fear and come running at once. Dan let out a shaky sigh. “I’m okay, Peri,” he whispered.

She nosed at the deep cuts where he had drawn the runes and he inhaled slightly. “I’ll take care of them later, don’t worry.” She padded over to Phil and prodded him gently with her paw, turning to look at Dan with questioning eyes. “He- he’s gonna be okay,” Dan reassured both her and himself.

The sound of wailing sirens that had been a faint presence for the past couple minutes grew louder and Dan got to his feet shakily. “Can you look after him while I deal with people?” he asked. Peri jumped onto the table and curled up beside Phil in response. Dan smiled gratefully and turned to the door. Now to deal with the paramedics.

An hour and a half later, Dan felt like shit, to be frank. The spell had taken almost all he had, and he had been running on pure adrenaline since then. He had gone outside to find people swarming around the scene of the crash and an ambulance and three police cars pulled up right in front.

 He sent his customer from the morning home after finding him trying to direct one of the officers over to Dan’s shop, and then turned to the officers. After explaining as much as he could with the truth, he then deviated into a hastily-concocted version of the story, where he pulled Phil into his shop merely to dress the wound, since he had medical training (a sort-of lie, but it couldn’t be helped) and then gave him a painkiller that had a drowsiness side effect.

He let the paramedics come in and examine Phil for any more injuries, knowing all they would find is a minor head wound, easily taken care of. The tow truck came next, pulling away Phil’s truck, which was of course completely totaled. After going through his report to the police one last time (describing the SUV in detail in hopes they caught the bastard), they finally left along with the paramedics, promising to come back the next day and get Phil’s statement from himself.

Dan sank to his knees beside where Phil was lying on a low table that Dan had dragged out from his storage room and padded with blankets. Peri opened her eyes but remained beside Phil, watching as Dan let his fingers trail through soft black hair and wished that Phil would wake up and look at him with soft sky eyes and tell him that everything was and would be alright.

He wondered if Phil would ever look at him the same way again, now that he knew…Dan sighed. He was going to miss Phil’s smile after this, and the way he said Dan’s name, like it was something sacred. He let his fingers trail down the side of Phil’s face, and brush lightly over his cheekbone. This was probably the last time he would be able to get this close to Phil.

Peri meowed softly, sensing his sadness, and Dan frowned, realizing he was thinking as though Phil would know he was a witch. If Dan could manage to get out of this mess, nothing would change. He just had to lie…to Phil. Easy, right?

All of a sudden, Dan’s head felt like a fifty-pound weight, and, without thinking, he let it sink down onto Phil’s broad chest, where his heartbeat filled Dan’s ears. Dan closed his eyes and drifted away to the oddly comforting sound of Phil’s heart quietly thudding away.

 It felt Dan had only been asleep for a few moments when he became aware of the fact that his pillow was moving slightly. Frowning at the movement, he opened his eyes to see-oh. For the second time that day, piercing blue eyes were staring straight at him. _Wait, what?!_

 Dan jerked upright, falling backwards onto the floor and startling Peri in the process, who meowed in protest before jumping down and padding away. A blush rose quickly in his cheeks as he realized he had been sleeping- _oh god-_ on Phil’s chest.

“S-sorry,” he squeaked, willing himself to stop blushing, but to no avail. Phil propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze still boring straight into Dan. _Wait a second_ \- Dan whipped his head around to see that the clock behind him read three pm. Phil was supposed to be out at least until eight!

“How- how in the hell are you awake?” he said, more to himself than Phil. Phil sat all the way up, resting his elbows on his knees. “Dan…” Dan shook his head quickly, “No, it doesn’t matter.”

 He looked up at Phil, then back at the floor. Okay, maybe Phil didn’t even remember Dan healing him. He could fix this. “What do you remember?” he asked quietly.

Phil was quiet for a moment. “Um…this morning, I was about to pull over in front of my shop from an errand when I felt the whole truck get slammed forward into a…pole or something, completely out of nowhere. My head hit the steering wheel and I guess I blacked out. The next thing I remember is…wait, how’s my truck?” Phil asked quickly. Dan shook his head. “I’m really sorry, it was totaled.”

He looked up to see Phil squeeze his eyes shut. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll deal with that… later.” He took a breath, then continued. “The next thing I remember is you, Dan.”

And all of a sudden, blue eyes were holding Dan in place with their intensity. “You healed me. I know you did.” Dan kept his gaze on the ground, unable to look into Phil’s eyes when he knew he was about to lie through his teeth.

 “You’re half right. I took you in here and put pressure on the wound until the paramedics got here and then they were able to take care of it. They gave you some painkillers- I guess they had some pretty heavy drowsiness side effects. You’ve been asleep ever since.”

Dan chanced a glimpse at Phil’s face. He was frowning and not looking like he believed Dan at all. _Shit._ “No, I remember looking up and seeing you almost…glowing… and you had your hands pressed to my head and there was this… burning heat where they touched me. Then you gave me tea that knocked me out, Dan. I’m not stupid.”

“You must have been hallucinating,” Dan whispered, the words wavering and practically see-through in their transparency. _God, why couldn’t he ever lie to Phil?_

 “No, Dan. Stop lying, please,” Phil replied firmly, and Dan felt his heart seize up with fear. “Okay, fine,” he said quietly, fiercely, still staring at the floor.

 He couldn’t do this anymore.

 “I’m a witch, okay? Happy now?” Dan said furiously, head snapping up to meet Phil’s eyes at last. He quickly looked back at the floor, unable to bear looking at Phil’s eyes and see the revulsion that was sure to be there. “Look, just…I’m sorry I lied to you, okay?”

“Wait-” Phil started. “No, please,” Dan broke in, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please let me finish.” Thankfully, Phil stayed silent.

“I-I understand…if...” he dug his nails into his fists, willing himself to go on. This was harder than he had expected. “If…you never want to see me again because I’m…a monster. I get that, okay? So- just, I’m sorry and it’s okay if you never talk to me again, but please-” he opened his eyes and stared imploringly straight into Phil’s eyes for as long as he could stand, something registering in the back of his mind that Phil just looked confused, not revolted.

 “Please don’t tell anyone about me. I’m begging you, Phil. I can’t run my shop anymore if everyone knows I’m a witch.” Dan looked at the ground again, fear blooming thick and poisonous in his chest. “I know that’s a lot to ask, and I…I understand if you choose not to keep my secret.” Silence choked the air for one long, excruciating moment.

Dan was trying to decide whether it was best to just fucking bolt out of the shop or open a portal directly to hell right there and hop in it when he heard a strange noise from Phil’s direction. _Oh no…_ What if he was crying?

Dan looked up, terrified, to see Phil… _laughing._ The bastard was actually _laughing._ Dan could do nothing but stare in complete and utter disbelief as Phil tried to muffle his chuckles with his hand.

A moment later, Phil was calm again, except for a slight smile on his lips. “I’m sorry- I really am. I shouldn’t be laughing, it’s just-” the smile grew on Phil’s lips as he shook his head. “God, Dan. We’ve been so stupid.” Dan was still staring at him, trying to figure out whether or not he was hallucinating.

Phil grinned at the ceiling, then at Dan, blue eyes gleaming with sudden happiness. “Dan, I’m a witch-just like you.” Dan’s jaw dropped. _What?_ For once, his mind went almost completely blank as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. He had to be dreaming.

“Phil…?” he said at last. “Yes?” Phil replied quickly, leaning toward him. “Pinch me,” Dan requested faintly. “W-what?” “Pinch me,” Dan repeated, holding up his arm. Brow furrowed in confusion, Phil did so. Hard. “Fuck, ow,” Dan swore, pulling his arm back. “Well you did ask,” Phil pointed out.

 Dan didn’t reply, staring intently at the red mark on his arm. It was real. This was real. This was actually happening. Dan looked up suddenly, brown eyes searching blue for a hint of dishonesty, uncertainty, anything.

All he could see, though, was a bit of confusion, and…concern. For _him-_ for Dan, of all things. “You’re sure?” came out of his mouth a second later, and Dan wanted to smack himself. Phil chuckled quietly. “Yeah, fairly sure.”

Dan lapsed into disbelieving silence once more, never taking his eyes off of Phil. So many nights spent imagining Phil rejecting him, revolted at the sight of him, telling everyone about him…so many mornings waking up to freezing snow and traces of tears. So many close calls of almost telling Phil about a new spell or the newly discovered magical properties of some plant, so much fear and worrying…all of it had been obliterated in one fell swoop.

 Dan simply couldn’t believe it. He needed proof- this felt way too good to be true. “Show me,” he demanded. “I need to see it.” He was worried for a second that Phil would be offended that Dan didn’t believe him, but he only nodded, a glint of understanding his eyes as he stood and walked over to the windowsill.

There Dan’s geranium sat, slowly but surely regaining its strength since being dropped when they first met each other. Phil picked it up gently and pressed the tip of his index finger to the dirt surrounding it. A faint command of “Crescere,” sounded from his lips, and sure enough, the plant shot up a few inches, leaves unfurling and a couple small purple flowers blooming among them.

Phil set the pot back down and walked back to sit on the table next to where Dan was still frozen on the floor. “I specialize in plants, you see,” he explained. “My magic is strongest where it concerns plants and their growth.” Dan felt a warm feeling spread through his body as what had happened truly sunk in. Phil was a _witch._

He felt a wide grin split his lips. “I believe you, Phil,” he said, turning to beam at him. “I just -I was expecting you to be angry, or disgusted, or- anything but this!” He couldn’t help but laugh happily, the sound drawing itself from its chest as he grinned.

Phil grinned right back. “Okay, so let me guess- you’re a potions witch?” he said. Dan nodded, hand coming up to push back his curls absentmindedly. Phil frowned suddenly, reaching his hand forward and taking Dan’s wrist. His hands dwarfed Dan’s- Phil could fit his index finger and thumb all the way around Dan’s wrist easily.

He pulled it towards him gently – _so gently, like Dan was made of glass, how was someone this gentle all the time-_ and his mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked at the rune cut deep into Dan’s skin, surrounded by crisscrossing cuts from the glass. “Dan... you did this to yourself?”

 Dan had stopped breathing. “Y-yeah,” he said shakily. “I needed to do it for the healing spell to work.” Phil ran his fingers impossibly lightly across the damaged skin, as though Dan would shatter if he pressed too hard. “I’m sorry you had to do this to heal me,” Phil said at last, his voice quiet and tinged with…distress?

 Dan couldn’t take his eyes off of where Phil’s fingers were touching his skin. “It’s okay- you were pretty bad off,” Dan replied belatedly. He looked up, his wrist forgotten for a moment. “Wait, how’s your head?”

Phil released Dan’s wrist- Dan told himself furiously to not whimper at the loss- and gently prodded his head. “It actually feels pretty good considering. It still kind of stings a bit, and I have a massive headache, but other than that, I’m okay.”

Dan clasped his hands in his lap, trying to ignore the lingering crackles of electricity where Phil had touched him. “That’s good, but I should dress the wound a bit better, maybe a plantain poultice…” he trailed off, thinking.

Phil stood, stretching a bit. “Okay, but you need to take care of yourself too. You look dead on your feet- that was some pretty advanced magic you did on me.” Dan blushed slightly and rose to his feet as well. “Well, I don’t know about that. That was the first time it actually worked, for one thing-”

“Shut up and take a compliment, Howell,” Phil said breezily, laughing as he walked to the back room in search of tea-making


	10. The Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a wait for this one and it's pretty short, sorry...but it's a bit more fluffy to make up for all the angst if that helps

Many things remained the same. Dan and Phil still made a daily visit to each other’s shops, drinking tea and coffee, respectively, and still talking about anything and everything. Phil still had an uncanny ability to make Dan smile like an idiot, and Dan still blushed far too often, and they both still talked way too much about plants to be normal. But it was slightly…different.

_A better different_ , Dan thought to himself with an involuntary grin. He no longer had to forcefully remind himself at every turn that he was different from Phil, that Phil wouldn’t want to be around him if he knew the truth- because Phil did know the truth, and he was still here. Still laughing at Dan’s stupid jokes and gushing over his cat and drinking his tea and decidedly not hating Dan.

Best of all, the nightmares had stopped completely, and Dan no longer woke up shivering to mounds of snow, but instead to his sun-filled bedroom. Granted, Dan still stared at Phil way too much to be normal and had to curl his hands into fists at least twice a day to keep himself from reaching for Phil, to adjust his collar or brush back his hair or a thousand tiny earth-shattering things. Which-okay, he couldn’t help that, not really. And it wasn’t like Phil ever seemed to notice anyway, so Dan tried not to think about it too much.

So maybe not everything was perfect, but it was damn better than a lot of Dan’s life had been up to that point, and if he just got to have Phil in his life- this impossibly good, warm person who somehow was willing to spend time with Dan- then he was happy, no matter the context. Besides, practicing magic with Phil was incredibly fun.

 

“What the-Phil!” Dan cried in amused exasperation, running one hand through his curls in a vain attempt to sift out the flower petals that had burst over top his head out of nowhere in a slightly terrifying, bright pink cloud a moment ago.

He turned to see Phil smirking evilly as he stepped out from behind the doorway. “How in the hell did you just conjure that many petals so quickly?” Dan asked, but shook his head as Phil opened his mouth, looking smug. “Never mind, I already know- you’re an amazingly skilled witch, yeah yeah, whatever,” Dan said, trying and failing to maintain an annoyed expression. Phil shrugged and walked past him, no doubt towards Dan’s tea supply. “What can I say, I’m extremely talented,” he replied over his shoulder.

Dan rolled his eyes and followed him to the back room. “I hope you don’t think you’re getting tea- not after what you just did to me,” he said sternly before Phil could ask him. Phil’s eyes widened in disbelief and he let out a distressed whine. “No! I take it back! You’re a much better witch than me!” Dan shook his head. “Flattery won’t work on me now.” Phil got down on his knees before Dan, blue eyes pleading. “I’ll do anything! Please just give me tea!” 

Dan couldn’t help the blush that blazed in his cheeks as he looked at Phil on his knees- _his brain needed to shut the fuck up, seriously-_ and he backed away, stuttering as he turned to kettle. “Get up, you freak. I’ll make you tea, Jesus.” Phil grinned triumphantly and got up at once. “Thanks, you’re amazing,” he sang in Dan’s ear, too close and too warm and  _too_ _much_ , before dancing away happily to pet Peri.

Dan willed his blush away and focused on making tea. And so it continued for the next couple of weeks, until…well. Until it came to an end, as most good things in Dan’s life seemed to.

 

“Here’s your coffee.” Phil handed Dan the chipped blue mug that had quickly become his after multiple coffee visits to Phil’s shop. Dan gave him a grateful smile and took a long sip as he let his eyes rove over the newspaper article he was reading. Phil sat down cross-legged next to him and leaned against the wall.

Moments like these had become Dan’s favorites, ones he tried to bottle up and hold in his chest as long as he could; Phil relaxed and warm beside him and the only sounds the slosh of coffee in chipped mugs and the turning of the newspaper pages as he read.

“I should really get some actual chairs for us sometime,” Phil remarked for what had to have been the hundredth time into the calm silence. “We’ve been sitting on the floor for months now.” Dan snorted, glancing over at Phil with an exasperated half-smile. “You say that almost every time I come over, Phil. And months later, here we are.” Phil shrugged, smiling half-heartedly.

Dan looked at him for a moment, considering. Phil had been uncharacteristically quiet the past couple days, getting lost in his head often and replying belatedly when Dan talked to him. Phil had helped Dan get out of his own head more than once now and Dan had been trying to do the same thing for him, but he knew he wasn’t near as good at it as Phil.

He seemed better today, though, and Dan was glad for it. He turned back to the newspaper. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” he said absentmindedly, and that was when he saw it.

Phil might have replied, but his words were lost to the sound of blood rushing in Dan’s ears as he stared at the words on the page, uncomprehending. “Missing suspected member of pro-witch resistance group finally found dead in the Thames two days ago.” The black words sat on the page matter-of-factly, almost taunting him. Dan didn’t know why he was even surprised.

He should have expected this from the moment he heard about a pro-witch resistance group. It was incredibly dangerous, he had known that, but still…seeing proof of it right in front of his eyes seemed to shake his foundations. An organization like that was doomed the moment it began in these kinds of times. It was legal for them to exist, sure, but with the illegal witch hunters basically going unregulated and the general public opinion against witches, there was little real chance of them succeeding.

All that was left now was for the rest of its probably few members to be hunted down and killed. The same old vice-like fingers of fear, for himself, for his kind, and now for Phil, were beginning to choke him when “…Dan? Dan, are you okay?”

Dan realized he had been breathing quick, shallow breaths, and Phil touched him on the shoulder gently. “I’m okay, just-” Dan cut himself off. Before, he had hidden this kind of stuff from Phil, trying to mask his reactions to keep his secret, but Phil knew now. He didn’t have to hide this from him.

Dan handed him the newspaper wordlessly, and watched Phil’s face tighten and his lips press into a thin line as he read. He set the newspaper face down a moment later, and looked up at Dan, who was struck by how his normally warm sky eyes had turned flat and glass-like with pain. “Yeah, I heard,” Phil said quietly.

That explained why he had been quiet the past couple days, at least- the news had upset him like it had Dan. Dan was struck by a thought that hit him like a blow to the chest- all of the hate crimes against witches, the discrimination and prejudice against them…it affected Phil now too. Or rather, it had been affecting him as well the whole time. He, too, had to deal with all of the shit that kept Dan up at night, kept fear a constant presence in the corners of his mind. Dan couldn’t believe this had just now occurred to him, and all of a sudden, he wanted to cry. He couldn’t picture anyone being able to see Phil as a monster, or as anything less than human.

He was more human than anyone Dan had ever known.

He loved plants maybe a little too much and got excited over dogs in the street and was kind to every damn person he met and _how could anyone look at a man like that and hate him just because of the abilities he was born with?_ The pure injustice of it all made Dan want to slam his fist into a wall, frankly.

“It’s so unfair,” Dan whispered, squeezing his eyes shut to force back tears. “Why does everyone hate us?” Phil was silent beside him, but Dan didn’t blame him. He didn’t know the answer either. “Because we’re different, I suppose,” Phil said in the next moment, surprising him. It wasn’t the whole answer, but what answer was there really, when faced with blind bigotry? Dan twisted his fingers together and watched them turn white, desperately trying to shove all emotions into the far back of his mind.

“Hey, c’mere,” Phil said softly, and suddenly long arms were wrapping around Dan gently- _like he was made of glass-_ and pulling him closer and his head was resting on Phil’s shoulder and _holy shit Phil was hugging him, actually proper hugging him._

Ever so gently, he raised his arms and let them wind around the comforting warmth that was Phil, hardly believing that this was happening. Phil’s scent was thick and soothing around him, smelling of earth and lemon soap and something that was unmistakably _Phil_. Dan had to force himself not to inhale deeply as he turned his head imperceptibly, his nose just brushing Phil’s neck.

All too soon, Phil was letting his arms drop and Dan forced himself to pull away and sit back. Dan was positive he was blushing harder than a peony, but he also knew there was no hope of getting it to die down right away. Cursing his red cheeks, he scooted a bit away from Phil and looked over to see that there was the faint tint of pink dusting the tips of Phil’s ears. At least he wasn’t the only one embarrassed.

There was a second of awkward silence and then- “Thanks,” Dan said in a small voice. Phil looked up at him and smiled, blue eyes thawed completely now. “Sure.” Embarrassed, they both laughed a bit nervously and let the slight tension disappear.

Dan played with the hem of his sleeve. “Things- things are a bit shit, and have been for a while, but-with you, they’re a bit less shit,” he said quietly, and looked up to see Phil smiling softly at him. “Less shit, huh? Well-same here,” Phil replied after a moment, and both boys grinned at the floor rather stupidly.In the next moment, a wind-blown customer stumbled into the shop, desperate for flowers because “my mother’s birthday is TONIGHT!” The moment shattered, but Dan still found himself smiling hours later.

So, yeah- things were a _better_ different.


	11. The Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update??????? Finally???? (Sorry it took me actually forever, shit happens man) if anyone's still reading this then heyy long time no see

There were whispers in the streets.

Dan could feel them. Twining around streetlamps, slipping through doorways, rustling in dead leaves on the sidewalk. They were everywhere.

And they all spoke of one thing- rebellion. Against magic, against the government, against witches, against the witch-haters, against the public- Dan didn’t know. Nor did he really care, because it didn’t matter. It would all end in destruction regardless.

(Or that’s what he told himself, anyway).

In any case, the city was groaning under the weight of the ever-louder whispers, and Dan didn’t know how much longer he could ignore it all. Because warnings dressed as whispers were not things to be ignored, even if there was a slight chance that those warnings were not directed towards him (and what a slight chance it was).  

Dan turned up the collar of his coat in a vain attempt to shut the world out as he walked down the street, bustling with people even in the dim light of the winter evening. He was going to buy Phil yarn, and he was not going to think about whispers or warnings or rebellion. He stepped into the crafts store and was followed in by a gust of wind that slammed the door shut behind him with a bang.

Numerous old ladies’ heads snapped up at the offending noise, and Dan found himself at the receiving end of multiple beady-eyed glares at the same time. He rubbed his neck, forcing a blush away from his cheeks and walking into the store quickly.

Dan had only made the connection the other day that the reason Phil’s plants were able to survive in the English weather was because of his magic (okay, so maybe he was still getting used to the idea of Phil being a witch). Phil had snickered when he’d told him, but admitted that it was still difficult at times, especially during the winter. He’d then admitted that sometimes he would knit little sweaters to wrap around his plants’ pots in the winter to keep them warm.

Dan thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever heard of. So that was why he was making this late- evening trek out to the crafts store- to replenish Phil’s yarn supply so that he could make more plant sweaters.

_Fuck, he was so whipped_.

Armed with a couple balls of sky-blue yarn- _not obsessed with Phil’s eyes not obsessed with Phil’s eyes not obsessed-_ he made his way out of the shop and back into the cold once more. Walking briskly back to his own shop, he pondered whether or not he could give Phil his yarn right now or not. It was kind of late…but. It was the dead of winter in perpetually grey London and so maybe Phil’s smile was the closest thing to sunshine Dan had ever seen.

Decision made, Dan swung towards Phil’s shop only to see that it was dark. He frowned, walking closer. That was weird. Usually Phil was still here, puttering around and watering plants. Dan knocked on the door a couple times, knuckles smarting with the cold. “Phil, you there?” he called. No answer. Dan shrugged and walked into his own shop.

“He wasn’t there, Peri,” he said to the black cat as she bounded up to him. Dan felt a bit like pouting at the thought of having to wait until tomorrow to give Phil his surprise. He scratched Peri’s ears and sighed. “Guess I’ll just have to wait.” He looked around at the shop, disorderly from another busy day in cold season.

An hour later, Dan was finally able to set down the broom. “Ready for dinner, Peri?” She purred in response from her perch atop the nearest bookshelf. Suddenly, several loud crashes and the sounds of car alarms wailing shattered the quiet night.

Dan tensed immediately, eyes snapping to the window. There was nothing to be seen from the front of his shop, but the noises weren’t stopping…and they sounded close. It could mean nothing good, but something deep inside Dan was pulling him towards the door.

He had to know. Was it another hate-crime against witches? If so, then it could quickly spread to his shop given how close it sounded. What if they even broke into Phil’s empty shop without him there?

That did it. He had to go now. Dan shrugged on his coat and slipped a couple of healing amulets over his head (just in case). “Watch over the shop for me, okay Peri?” She blinked seriously at him and he felt her worry for him seep into the air around him. “I’ll be fine, don’t be silly.”

He locked up the shop behind him, and with one last backwards glance at the dark windows of Phil’s shop, Dan walked in the direction of the ominous sounds of destruction.

He hadn’t been walking for long when the noises rose to a crescendo, alarms and indiscernible shouts filling the night. Dan turned the corner into an area that was known for being heavily populated with witches, his heart in his throat. He came to a sudden stop, frozen.

 Everywhere he looked: devastation. The surrounding scene compiled itself into snapshot after snapshot that flipped behind his eyes one by one. There: a woman cradling a broken vase in her lap as tears streamed down her face. There: the black mouth of the smashed-in shop window, opened wide in a silent scream. There: flames licking up the side of the building. There: shattered glass as thick as new-fallen snow glittering on the sidewalk, cruelly beautiful.

And everywhere, hazy outlines of menacing dark figures smashed into shops, laughing as they kicked down doors, beat up shop-owners, and threw belongings into the street. They were an unstoppable black mass of hatred towards witches manifested.

Dan wasn’t sure he was still breathing.

He started forward- to help the crying woman in the street? To stop the looters? To call for help? Dan didn’t know, but he couldn’t- he suddenly caught sight of a screaming child- couldn’t just _stand here useless as these people watched their lives shatter couldn’t just stand here-_ but he had only taken one step when there was a sudden shout from behind, rising above the screams and laughs of the witch-haters.

Dan whirled around to see a wave of people pouring in from every possible direction to the scene. Armed with nothing but their fists, dressed in black from head to toe, and faces obscured with anything from masks to loosely-wrapped scarves, they descended upon the looters all at once.

That was when the chaos really begun. Fights broke out between the looters and some of the newcomers almost immediately, while others ran to help the victims and to try to put out the quickly spreading fires. Cries of pain and anger alike rose above the roar of the flames and Dan was left frozen once more, transfixed by the scene before him.

He caught sight of the screaming child again, though, and forced his legs to move until he reached the kid, who looked no older than four. The little girl peered up at him with teary brown eyes through scraggly bangs, still bawling. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhh,” Dan knelt quickly and reached out a shaking hand. “Hello there.” The child stopped screaming in favor of staring at him suspiciously, sobs still spilling from her mouth every couple of seconds.

Dan continued to make what he hoped were vaguely comforting noises and succeeded in taking hold of her tiny hand. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked softy. She simply sniffed and rubbed at her still leaking eyes. “Okay…do you know which one of these shops you live in?” Dan waved his hand in that general direction, hoping to god that she didn’t live in one of the buildings that were currently on fire or had their windows smashed in.

Suddenly, a black-clad figure ran past them to get to a newly burning building, and Dan felt his heart stop as he caught sight of the back of their black leather jacket. There was…a sigil painted on the back in blood-red, unmistakably the symbol for protection. Dan knew at once who these people were.  

This was the resistance.

Dan didn’t know how long he knelt there, staring in the direction of the person, when his attention was drawn back to the little girl by a fresh wave of tears. “Okay, okay, shhhh…” he said quickly. “Can you try to tell me where you live again?”

She sniffed and pointed to a burning shop to the right, flames racing up the sides. Dan’s heart sank. There was no way that building could be saved. “Alright, um-” “Julie, thank god, oh thank god!” A woman swooped upon the child from nowhere, gathering the little girl into her arms and sobbing in heart-wrenching relief. “Thank god, thank god, oh Julie…”

Child and mother cried together, their forms painted with the flickering light of flames. Dan had to look away, an intruder on the portrait of raw emotion in front of him. 

“Thank you so much,” the woman said as she lifted her head, fixing Dan with a desperately grateful stare. “Oh, uh- no problem, really-um,” he replied shakily. He got to his feet quickly, realizing the knees of jeans were torn open from kneeling on the glass in the street.

She nodded at him again and began to turn away, child still pressed to her chest. “Be careful, young man,” she said over her shoulder. “Those _animals_ \- “she spat the word from her mouth as she jerked her chin towards the looters- “show no mercy to our kind.”

Dan frowned, but she walked away before he could reply. How did she know-? He looked down at his chest, and- _shit._ The healing amulets were swinging from his neck, right out in the open. Dan hastily stuffed them inside his shirt and turned back to the chaos.

Looking around now, Dan realized there were less black-clad people ( _the resistance,_ he reminded himself) than he had thought. They were way outnumbered by the looters, who were luckily seeming to lose interest in their “fun”, having succeeded in destroying most of the street already anyways. However, that just meant they were devoting more attention to the resistance.

Dan stood still, ice in his veins, as the two sides seemed to gear up. Sigils flashed in the light of the flames as the resistance came together in a wave of black. Fists tightened around bats and clubs as the looters spilled into the street, righteousness alight in their eyes. The air seemed to crackle with tension.

Just then, the sound of alarms shattered the air as police cars shot into the street. There was a collective moment of frozen shock before all hell broke loose for the third time that night. Everyone took off running in every direction in one panicked mass movement. Dan took off too, knowing all too well the police’s less-than-merciful attitude towards witches.

He sprinted all the way home, lights whizzing by him in a blur. At last, his shop came into view, and he raced inside, slamming the door behind him. He could barely lock the door, his hands shaking too much to grasp onto anything and his breath coming in short gasps. Peri yowled at him, clearly on edge from the shock and hurt she had been feeling flow through Dan all evening.

He sank against the door, trying in vain to catch his breath and letting Peri nose all over him for injuries. “-M’ fine,” he finally managed, but she ignored him. Dan let his head roll to the side and caught sight of the discarded balls of sky-blue yarn from just a couple hours before, a poor replacement for Phil’s eyes. And all of a sudden, he was crying.

Dan’s shoulders shook as tears streamed down his face, and he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flow. Images from the last couple hours swam in his mind, flames and glass and bloody sigils mixing together in a swirl of color.

The whispers had been right.


	12. The Demonstration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghh another late update, sorryyyy...also more angst, because I'm predictable that way

Dan stirred the potion in front of him absentmindedly, watching the liquid bubble away in the cauldron. “Maybe some more silver shavings…” he murmured to himself, and sprinkled some in. He watched as the potion swirled and turned a sickening shade of red. Blood-red.

A sigil painted on the back of a leather jacket flashed in his mind’s eye, blazing scarlet in the light of the flames. Dan clenched his jaw and shook his head, trying in vain to dispel the memories. He didn’t want to remember anything that had happened that night.

Eyes burning with exhaustion, Dan looked longingly in the direction of where he knew his memory potions were kept. He had barely been able to sleep at all ever since that night, burning buildings and faceless, threatening forms swimming to the forefront of his mind whenever he closed his eyes. The temptation to take a couple sips and just… _forget_ …burned under his skin.

He couldn’t, though, and he knew it. Memory potions were far too risky to be taken lightly, even if he only took a little bit. So Dan sighed, told himself firmly to forget all about that night, and tossed a couple fig leaves into the potion, effectively turning it a nice shade of magenta.

The thing was, it was hard to forget about something when that something kept getting talked about in the news, on the radio, and in the whispered conversations of people on the street. It was even harder to forget about that something when that something _kept happening._

Since that first horrible night a week ago, two more “raid nights” (as the news called them when they bothered to report them), had occurred, and the resistance had shown up at each one, fighting with the looters until the police came and broke it all up. There had been four people arrested, all of them members of the resistance. None of the looters had even been taken in for questioning.

Dan sighed and stopped stirring the potion again, his eyes drifting to the window and his mind to a certain garden shop owner. The “raid nights” had been affecting him, too. The day after the first one, Phil had been withdrawn and quiet, his smile brittle as they sipped tea and sat together on the floor of Dan’s shop. Something in Dan’s chest twisted as he remembered Phil’s face as he stepped through the door that day, clear ocean eyes turned stormy and unreadable, and porcelain smile a moment away from shattering.

He had been leaving in the evenings, too. Worried about his parents in the midst of the violence, Phil had taken to staying with them each night after he closed down his shop. Dan completely understood, of course- it made perfect sense for Phil to be concerned for his parents’ safety. Thinking that, however, didn’t really help when every time he looked out the window to see Phil’s shop dark, he could feel another sliver of ice settle in his chest.

Dan clenched his jaw and forced his weary arm to keep stirring the potion. He had no business feeling sorry for himself just because he had barely gotten to spend any time with him in the past week. Phil wasn’t his in any sense of the word, and he needed to remember that.

Just then, the bell on the door to his shop jingled, and- “I’m here, Dan!” Dan grinned involuntarily as Phil’s voice carried through the shop. He turned down the heat on his potion, and walked out of the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. “I really need to make a call to the city about controlling the plant nerd population, Peri, they keep coming into my shop,” Dan teased as he rounded the corner, Phil coming into sight.

Phil was already shrugging off his jacket, cheeks red from the cold. He stuck out his tongue at Dan and immediately began cooing at Peri, who had already bounded up to him for affection. Dan smiled to himself. Phil seemed lighter today, his smile more like sunshine and less like plastic. “Why do I keep him around, Peri?” Phil asked, completely ignoring Dan at this point. Peri meowed.

Phil straightened up. “Oh, that’s right-tea!” He grinned cheekily at Dan, who rolled his eyes but started to walk back towards the teapot anyway. “Glad to know you really care,” he threw over his shoulder. Phil snickered and followed him to the back.

Several minutes and one minor mishap involving a mix up between the tea leaves and the fig leaves Dan had been using for his potion later, they were both curled up on their respective chairs with a steaming mug of tea. Dan took a tentative sip of the hot liquid and sneakily peered at Phil over the rim of his mug.

His head was tilted back against the chair, eyes closed and face soft with contentment. The weak winter afternoon sun crept through the window and danced off his dark hair, washing his form in honey light. Dan felt his chest loosen as he looked at Phil, forgetting about all the recent violence for a single golden moment. Then Phil opened his eyes and Dan tore his gaze away quickly, missing Phil’s smirk when he caught Dan looking at him.

Phil extended his leg lazily and poked Dan in the side, startling him and almost making him spill his tea. “Watch it, nerd,” Dan scolded lightly, moving his tea out of harm’s way. Phil didn’t respond, his gaze returning to the ceiling. “Hey, do you ever think…that sometimes…we have to take matters into our own hands…if it’s justified…?”

Dan frowned in confusion, looking up at Phil, but his blue eyes were firmly trained on the ceiling. “…What do you mean?” Phil sighed, “I don’t know, it’s just…isn’t it up to us to change the situation we’re in?” He tipped his head forwards suddenly, eyes latching on to Dan and holding him in place with their intensity. “Even if sometimes…it’s dangerous, even if sometimes we have to go to extremes-” he cut himself off and sat back, looking anywhere but on Dan, who, for his part, was still confused. “What exactly are you trying to ask?”

Phil shook his head,” Just…never mind.” He reached his hand up and ran it through his hair absentmindedly. Dan was about to press him and figure out what the hell he was talking about, when Phil’s sleeve slipped down and- Dan sucked in a breath.

“Phil, Jesus-” he rose out of his chair and was in front of Phil before he realized what he was doing, hands reaching out. He caught hold of Phil’s wrist and pushed the sleeve down further to reveal a nasty-looking bruise, bright purples and blues marring the porcelain of Phil’s skin. “How did you…” he trailed off as Phil yanked his arm back, tugging the sleeve up to cover the bruise.

“Oh that, I just- dropped a super heavy plant pot on it accidentally. It was really stupid of me actually,” he laughed easily at himself, but Dan remained unconvinced. “This doesn’t really look like that kind of bruise.” Phil smiled up at him sunnily, “Well that’s what happened.” Suspicion still curled snakelike in Dan’s stomach, but he decided to let it go, not wanting to ruin the calm of the afternoon thus far. He shook his head, “You’re going to end up killing both of us with your clumsiness one day. At least let me put salve on it.”

 

Phil waved goodbye as he left a little while later, his arm spread with copious amounts of bruise salve. Dan grinned at him and waved back, then turned to Peri. “Do you think he’s okay?” The cat blinked at him, but Dan felt her reassurance. “I guess you’re right- I should worry less.” He peered around the shop. “Shit, remind me to get more ginger root and eucalyptus sap from that shop downtown tonight, okay?”

That evening found Dan stepping out into the biting cold, nose tucked into a slightly lumpy scarf that Phil had knit for him after he noticed how red Dan’s nose was every time he came into the garden shop. He walked the familiar route to the spice store downtown on autopilot, allowing his mind to wander. He had just turned onto a more populated street near the center of the city when he heard it.

“No more hate! No more hate! No more hate!” The voices rose in a collective shout, a bit distant but still strong. Dan groaned. “Fuck, really?” The one day he decided to go downtown to get supplies and _of course_ it’s the exact night there’s some kind of crazy demonstration. He should just turn around and go home.

He knew that. So why were his feet moving towards the voices? Driven by some kind of morbid curiosity, Dan found himself walking towards the center of the city as the voices got louder. It was a bad idea, the city was absolutely in chaos at the moment, there had been three raids in the past week, _this was a very bad idea._

He really should just turn around and go home.

Dan rounded a corner and there- a huge mass of black marching down the busiest road in London, shouting as one. He stopped and stared as they passed, faces wrapped in scarves, black layers covering their forms, and, of course, the bloody sigils painted on the backs of their jackets. It was the resistance.

Dan looked around and was unsurprised to see passerby already gathered around the street, most of whom were glaring at the marchers with barely suppressed disgust. “Animals, the lot of them,” muttered a woman as she brushed past Dan, her bag knocking into his knees.

Dan looked at the back of her head for a moment, gray curls tucked under a knit hat, before turning back to the march as the shouts changed. “We will rise! We will rise!” was the new chant, rising above the smog of the city as a hundred black boots stomped down the street, strength in their step. They looked invincible, sigils winking from their backs, fists raised high, and voices raised as one- and all Dan could think was _how stupid they were._

What was this going to accomplish other than chaos and destruction? They were just asking for violence- why couldn’t they let the city live in peace? They were just going to instigate more raids, more violence, more _deaths._ That was when people started throwing things.

The growing crowd began to hurl threats, insults, and rocks as the marchers continued. Dan looked from the faceless, screaming throng of black on the street to see a crowd of faces around him, contorted with fury as they screamed at the protesters.

He was drowning in a sea of human hatred.

And that was when the police decided to show up, motorcycles and cars squealing into the square as they hopped out and tried to corral the protesters, who… did not respond cooperatively. Jeers filled the square, the mass of black began to break apart as marchers either turned to flee from the square or fight with the crowd, who had progressed to shouldering their way into the street.

He really _really_ should just turn around and go home.

And so, in the smartest thing he’d done all day, Dan finally turned around to escape from the scene of chaos- only to find his exit blocked by more people pouring into the square, eager to see the action. He whipped around, panic rising in his chest as he was pushed to and fro by the frenzied crowd. The orderly mass of black had completely broken apart now, protesters and crowd intermixing in a storm of insults and near-violence.

The police were shouting through megaphones, but the shouts of the crowd easily overpowered them. Fear was choking Dan as he pushed through the crowd, desperately searching for an exit, an open route, anything, _please god anything_ , and-

He suddenly saw, in the midst of the panic and chaos and upheaval, a lone protester kneeling on the street, their back to Dan. They were talking carefully to a crying child, hand resting comfortingly on the child’s shoulder. The sigil painted on their back rippled as they got to their feet, probably to look for the child’s parents.

They kept a tight grip on the child’s hand as they scanned the crowd, free hand running through their dark hair worriedly. Dan didn’t know why his lungs weren’t working all of a sudden. The protester turned around, and - _oh god-_

Summer sky eyes caught sight of Dan from behind a black scarf, widening when they saw his face.

There were ravens in the sky, blood in the streets, and Phil. Standing in the middle of it all with his wind-mussed hair and eyes that Dan has never been able to get out of his head, and- _Phil._

For a moment, they were frozen, two unmoving islands in an ocean of savagery. Then Phil took a step forward, and Dan forced air back into his lungs, and he- he couldn’t do this _he couldn’t do this he couldn’t-_

Dan turned and ran.  

 


	13. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why has this story become so depressing I'm so sorry- I promise it'll get better! Also sorry for the short chapter- I felt like that was the best place to end it and I really wanted to get this up!

“Dan? Hello?”

Dan twirled his fingers, watching as the flower floating in the air above them followed suit, its petals waving softly. He directed all his concentration on the flower, trying to block out everything else.

“I know you’re in there, Dan, c’mon!”

Dan focused even more, brow furrowing as he made the flower do flips in mid-air.

“Dan, please!”

Dan narrowed his eyes and started to jerk his fingers backwards repeatedly, watching as one by one, the petals were torn from the flower.

“Dan, seriously, stop it already!” Knocking sounded on the door, determined knuckles rapidly beating against the old wood. Dan gritted his teeth and ripped the last petal from the flower- _knock knock KNOCK_ \- “Go away!” he finally burst out.

“Dan? Dan! What’s going on? Why won’t you talk to me? You never showed up yesterday, not all day, and that’s never happened, and-are you okay?” Dan sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. He leaned against the door, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

“Then-why? Are you mad? Can we please talk about this?” Dan dropped his head into his hands. How was he supposed to explain what he was feeling when he didn’t understand it himself? There were vines tightening around his lungs, had been there ever since- “Dan. Dan, please.” He was so _tired._

Dan sighed again, pushed himself onto his feet, and opened the door. Uncertainty and sea-glass eyes and maybe the only real friend Dan had ever had was standing on the doorstep. “Hey, Phil.”

Phil smiled hesitantly, hand lifted in an awkward wave that made both of them cringe. “Er, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. Dan used all of his willpower not to smile out of habit. “Come in, you’re letting all the cold air in,” he said quietly. Phil raised his eyebrows and stepped inside.

There was a long awkward silence as they just stared at each other until- _meow!_ Peri came bounding out of nowhere, rubbing up against Phil’s leg. Phil grinned and leaned down to pet her. “Hello, Peri, how are you?” he cooed. Dan turned around abruptly-tea. Tea helped everything.

He returned, two steaming mugs in hand, to see Phil cross-legged on the floor, still petting Peri. It was just like any other day in the shop. Phil would unwind one of his lumpy hand-knitted scarves from around his neck, nose pink and eyes electric-bright.

They would sip their tea, Phil trying to guess what flavor Dan had concocted for him that day, and then talk until one or both of them had to go back to work, warmed from the comfort of their easy friendship.

Dan saw that day unwind in his mind, slow and honeyed and perfect.

 He let the longing for that normalness ache in his chest for a moment, before stepping forward and handing Phil his plain black tea. No special flavors today. Phil murmured his thanks and sipped the drink before peering at Dan quizzically, who steadfastly refused to meet his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Phil asked hesitantly. Dan stared at his tea, letting the silence stretch around them. “Crazy weather we’ve been having lately, huh?” Phil finally attempted small talk.

“All cold…and gloomy-like…so unlike London to be gloomy, you know-” “Were you ever going to tell me?” Dan broke in. “Tell you what?”

Dan clenched his fist, nails digging into the skin, “You know what, Phil. You’re part of that…group, that…resistance.” Phil tilted his head and managed to catch Dan’s gaze, magnetic blue gaze holding him in place. “Is there something wrong with that?” Dan tore his eyes from Phil’s, finding it a bit hard to breathe.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, voice catching on the words as they tripped from his mouth. Phil hummed, reaching out to pet Peri once more. “It kinda feels like it matters, to be honest. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Dan, but I couldn’t- for my safety and the safety of the other members. You know as well as I do how dangerous it would be if I were found out.”

Dan nodded. He knew that, had known that, but still-the vines around his lungs clenched ever tighter. Images of countless moments on the floor of their shops swam in his mind’s eye- when Dan had first found out about the resistance, when the first member had been found missing, found dead- and Phil.

Comforting Dan every single time, never once saying a word about how he had been a part of it all along, part of the chaos, the destruction- “Am I really that untrustworthy?”

Dan’s head snapped up. Had he really just said that? _God,_ that had sounded desperate and insecure and childish and everything that Dan was and hoped that Phil would never see in him, _shit-_ “Dan, no-hey. Of course I trust you, it was just that other lives were on the line here.”

Dan’s fingers tightened around his mug, “Yeah, I know.” And he did know.

Except that every time he looked at Phil now, it was like a one-way ticket back to fourteen years ago, back to relatives tiptoeing around on egg shells and screams sounding in his head at night and black grief clouding his world and- he had never _ever_ wanted to associate anything from his past with Phil.

That was no longer possible.

Phil extended his leg and nudged Dan with his toe. “Is that why you were upset? You thought I don’t trust you? Of course I trust you, Dan- you’re one of my best friends, you know that.” Dan lifted his head and gave Phil a weak smile, grateful at least for his attempts at making Dan feel better.

Phil took the smile as a sign of forgiveness and began chattering on about other things, trying to pull the conversation to a lighter topic. It was a strategy Phil had perfected the last few months- when Dan was lost in his head, Phil was always able to hand him a map back to normality with light conversation and easy company.

Except that this time, Dan wasn’t just lost in his own head- he was drowning in it, and Phil wouldn’t be able to reel him back in this time. Not when Phil was the reason for it in the first place. Not when he looked at Phil and only saw bloody sigils and destruction.

He managed to nod and smile at the right times enough throughout the next half hour to convince Phil of his supposed normality. There were still vines around his lungs and his knuckles were still white from gripping his mug but everything was just fine, really, until- “Well, I should probably head back, I’m on duty tonight.”

Dan’s head snapped up, brows furrowed. “On duty?” Phil nodded, “Yeah, with all the raids that keep happening, we’ve had to go out every night to try to stop them.” Dan’s mind flashed back to the horrible night of the first raid- the child screaming, the buildings burning, the resistance.

That had been Phil out there- he could’ve gotten hurt, or arrested, or _killed._

He could still die tonight, if another raid occurred. The vines clenched tighter. “Is it really worth it?” Dan asked, voice shaking under the effort to sound unaffected. “To antagonize the looters, to risk being arrested, to destroy the city, to _put yourself in danger?”_

Dan looked up to see Phil take a deep breath and run his fingers through his dark hair. “Yes, Dan. It is worth it to help others, even at the risk of danger to myself. And we’re not destroying the city- the looters are doing a fine job of that all by themselves.”

Dan shook his head, “But you’re still antagonizing them- like that demonstration? That just made them angrier, and even more likely to hate us! They hate us enough without you guys making it worse.” Phil stepped forward and held Dan’s gaze steady with his own. 

“Dan, they’re going to hate us no matter what. They hate us because of who we are- we can’t change that. And if we don’t fight them, who will?”

Fourteen- year old shadows climbed the walls and Dan closed his eyes against their ever-blacker forms. “It’s not going to change anything, Phil.”

“Of course it will-” “No, it won’t,” Dan shook his head. “It’ll just make them angrier and cause even more deaths and needless destruction.” His eyes found the window, the sunset turning the sky blood-red. Bloody sigils.

“All it will do is take away the people you care about,” Dan whispered.

He took a deep breath and continued in a firmer voice, “It’s not worth it, Phil- you’re letting your goddamn optimism cloud your judgement. Just because you can shout in the street and rile some people up doesn’t mean anything’s going to change.”

Phil furrowed his brows, mouth tightening into a thin line, “And you’re letting your pessimism cloud _your_ judgement. We can change things, I know it. This will always be worth it to me- I’m trying to make a better life for people like us- people I care about.”

A tidal wave of anger crashed within Dan, surging up unexpectedly. “How can you say that you’re doing this for the people you care about when what you’re doing is so- so _selfish?”_ Phil sucked in a breath, “Selfish? You really think what I’m doing is selfish? I’m doing this for people like you and me, Dan! How can you say- _selfish_?”

“Yes, selfish,” Dan shot back. The waves of anger swelled ever higher in him, turning his vision crimson. “You’re just giving in to your emotions, you’re not thinking logically about the situation! What is demonstrating going to do other than instigate more raids?  What is deliberately putting yourself in danger going to do other than get you hurt? And all because-what? You want to feel like a hero?”

The sea of anger within him frothed and there were poison-tipped words under his tongue and he couldn’t hold them back, not when there were so many threatening to spill from his lips- “Well, guess what, you aren’t a hero! And chanting in the streets isn’t going to make you one.”

Phil’s eyes were black ice- a sure sign Dan had upset him. When he spoke, his voice trembled with barely-contained anger. “No- no I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m trying to be something other than a coward who sits in his safe haven and lets the people around him suffer, all because he was too scared to stand up for them.”

Dan felt the breath catch in his throat. To his horror, he could feel tears starting to burn in his eyes, _shit_ \- “Okay, well, this coward would like you to leave his shop- _now_.” He strode over to the door, straining to keep himself from trembling, and opened the door.

He looked back to see Phil standing stock-still, staring at the floor. His head snapped up when Dan opened the door, his shoulders stone-like with tension and his face a mask of porcelain. “Fine,” he said lowly, striding past Dan without meeting his eyes and walking out into the cold winter day.

Dan closed the door behind him much harder than necessary, and slumped to the floor against it, his whole body trembling.

“Fuck.”


	14. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol you know how I said it gets better? yeah I was definitely lying (okay but it DOES just...not quite yet) also this is a freakishly long chapter...I got so carried away I apologize

Dan stared at the door to his shop, perfectly still. _Maybe…_ He furrowed his brow, gaze burning into the plain wood. _Maybe…maybe…_ The door remained immobile, and Dan sighed. He may be a witch, but no amount of staring was going to make a certain garden shop owner knock on that door.

Dan looked down at the endless papers spread before him, bookkeeping and inventory and stuff that he kind of really needed to do. He sighed again and lifted the pen to begin when suddenly, the bell to the shop jingled, shattering the stillness of the store and startling Dan as the door swung open to reveal-

A distinctly mousy-looking lady with large glasses emphasizing her wide, apprehensive eyes stood in the doorway. Her hands were clutched tightly around a purse, and her gaze darted all around the store before landing on Dan.

He rose from his stool- _hadn’t he seen her before somewhere? -_ and called out, “Good morning, ma’am!” She jumped a little, as if surprised she was being addressed, and nodded timidly. “H-hello,” she replied in a wavering voice, and _oh-_ Dan realized she had come in before, albeit even more nervous then.

He rounded the corner of the counter and smiled warmly at her, hoping to put her at ease. “Haven’t seen you in a while, ma’am- I take it the holistic remedies worked out, then?” She clutched at her tightly-wrapped scarf and nodded jerkily, “Yes, yes, thank you very much. I’ve run out, however, and am in need of more…cough remedy.”

Dan nodded and led her over to the same section as before, plucking the desired bottle from the shelf and holding it out for her to inspect. “Glad to hear it’s been working out for you, ma’am!” he said as they walked back to the check-out. She merely nodded, and he sighed internally- how uneasy could one person be?

He rung the item up, smiling and trying to make her feel more comfortable. “I should send your niece a thank-you card for telling you about this shop- you’ve come in three times now!” he said jokingly. Three times wasn’t actually much at all, considering he had weekly customers, but hey- anything to make a customer feel welcome, right?

Except she didn’t smile or respond in kind. Instead, she frowned, clutching the bag as Dan placed it in front of her. “I don’t have a niece,” she said, brow still furrowed as she turned and walked towards the door.

Dan was taken aback. Hadn’t she said her niece had told her about his shop the first time she came in? He mentally shrugged- _must’ve made it up in my head-_ and called out a goodbye as she opened the door. She turned and gave him a slight wave before stepping out into the London morning.

Dan sat back onto his stool and watched as the door swung shut and the shop filled with silence once again.

Eight days.

That was how long it had been since his fight with Phil. That was how long it had been since he had seen Phil. Since he had talked to Phil. Since the door to his shop had swung open and easy laughter had stepped through.

And over the course of those eight days, Dan had discovered there was only one thing worse than fighting with Phil- and that was not being with Phil at all. He would rather be with an angry, hurt Phil than no Phil at all.

But just because he had realized this didn’t mean he could act on it. No matter how much he missed Phil, he couldn’t stop replaying Phil’s voice, words like shattered glass as he called Dan a coward. As he revealed what he _really_ thought of Dan.

To be fair, Dan had definitely provoked him. Dan knew that- he really did. He wasn’t so wrapped up in his own hurt and grief that he couldn’t recognize that Phil hadn’t deserved what he said to him. And, if he really made himself think about it, Dan kind of knew that none of this was Phil’s fault- it was his.

It was Dan’s past, Dan’s issues, Dan’s damning emotions that had sparked the fight. It was all him. But if Dan let himself think about that, then he would lose the anger towards Phil that he had been clinging to over the past couple days. With Phil himself gone, Dan’s anger was the only anchor he had left. Without it…well.

So he mixed potions and pasted on glass smiles for customers and all the while, he _burned_ with anger. The anger was searing and real and made him feel like something other than a skeleton of bone-deep grief, like something other than a tattered shadow.

Good thing Dan didn’t let himself think too much about it, right?

No matter how angry he was, though, Dan couldn’t stop himself from listening to the news religiously for any mentions of raids… and the resistance (or “the vigilantes,” as the media now liked to call them). If Phil was in danger, he _had to know_.

Maybe that made him weak. But since when had Dan ever been able to consider himself strong? He was weak, and he knew it. However, that mattered less, somehow, when it came to Phil.

Everything mattered less when it came to Phil.

As if called by his own thoughts, the radio in the corner of the shop crackled to life, static smoothing out into a faint voice, “Breaking news: there have been reports that another raid occurred late last night at around 2:30 a.m. Estimated one dead, six injured. This is the first time there has been a reported death as a result of the raids. Fortunately, two vigilantes were arrested by London police. We are still awaiting further reports. Now, on to a new story from the palace- the Queen has just adopted another Corgi! This has….” Dan reached over and turned the volume down to a faint hum.

_One dead._

His fingers were trembling.

_He has to be okay he has to be okay he has to be okay he has to-_

Dan clenched his trembling fingers into fists, trying to keep calm. Phil was capable, and smart, and strong, and- and- _he has to be okay._

Dan heard a loud meow as Peri, who had no doubt felt the spike in his emotions, padded over to where he was sitting. He forced a tired smile onto his face and took a deep breath. “I’m okay, Peri, it’s just- Phil-” he put his head in his hands, unable to entertain the thought of Phil hurt, Phil dying, Phil _dead._

She nosed at his leg and meowed comfortingly. _Wait a second._ “Peri…Peri could you do something for me?” She tilted her head questioningly as Dan knelt in front of her, his gaze urgent. “Could you…sneak into Phil’s shop?”

Peri blinked at him, clearly expressing just how stupid she thought he was being. Dan groaned in frustration- this had been bit of a sticking point between them over the past eight days. “Peri, I know you don’t agree with me avoiding Phil, but _please._ I need to know if he’s okay, and I can’t- I can’t see him. Not now.”

She licked a coal-black paw nonchalantly, refusing to look at him. Dan leaned closer, “Peri- Peri, _please._ You know better than anyone how much…how much I care about him. You’re the only one I can’t hide it from.”

The black cat fixed him with a long stare, green eyes gazing deep into brown. Dan nearly sobbed in relief when he felt her finally surrender, and he jumped to his feet to watch as she leaped to the open window, and into the winter air.

His eyes followed her dark form as she landed on the ledge of Phil’s window and carefully nudged it open with her paw. It swung open slowly, and she jumped down into Phil’s shop, out of sight. Dan took a deep breath.

All she had to do was find Phil somewhere in the shop, make sure he was okay without being seen, and report back to Dan. It would be quick, and easy, and nothing to worry about. Forcing himself to calm down with those thoughts, Dan sat back onto his stool. His eyes didn’t leave the window, though.

Thirteen minutes later, Peri was still gone. And maybe Dan was kind of starting to panic a little bit. _She should have been able to find him by now._ Peri had been in Phil’s shop enough to know it well, and there was nowhere Phil could be that she wouldn’t have been able to find by now and- Peri leaped onto the windowsill.

Dan shot up and took a step towards her, “Peri-!” She brushed past him, ears down as she paced over to the far corner of the shop. Dan could feel waves of worry flowing from her but none of her thoughts- _oh god-_ “Peri, please- tell me what happened! Is he okay?”

He knelt in front of her and gathered her into his arms, feeling the little cat rub her nose against his neck reassuringly before finally letting him into her thoughts. He sucked in a sharp breath and stared at her unblinking green gaze. “He wasn’t there? You searched the whole shop, right?” She blinked and Dan’s lungs constricted. According to Peri, no one had been in Phil’s shop since yesterday evening.

Dan set her down carefully before striding over to the door. Screw avoiding Phil, screw their stupid fight, screw his anger- he had to see for himself. Dan marched over to Phil’s door and pounded on it, noting the dark windows and locked door. “Phil?”

There was no answer. The windows remained dark, hooded black eyes that stared back at him dispassionately. Dan gritted his teeth, frustration and the beginning of panic beginning to trickle into his veins, when a sudden rumble sounded from the street corner.

Dan looked up to see a nondescript silver car turning onto the street, its driver fiddling with the radio with one hand and pushing through dark black hair with the other, and- _it was Phil_. The sudden ice-cold douse of relief made Dan dizzy, stumbling back into the shadows between their shops.

He let just a little bit of shadow magic hide him further and watched as Phil parked what must be his new car ( _he had been trying to find a replacement for his pickup truck for ages, always thrusting car ads into Dan’s face and exclaiming over stupid-looking grandma cars, making Dan roll his eyes and grin)_ and headed into his shop. His face was hidden with a horrendously ugly hand-knit scarf and he looked more than exhausted, but he was okay.

_He was okay._ Dan sagged against the wall, feeling like his bones had been liquefied and drained out of him, pooling onto the cracked concrete under his feet.  _He was okay._

Several minutes later, Dan finally felt like he could stand up again, and slipped back into his shop. Peri meowed at him, and he fell to his knees in the middle of the shop, picking her up and burying his nose into her warm fur.

“He’s alive, Peri, he’s alive,” he whispered into her fur, letting her reassurance and comfort warm him. Finally, he set her down, but was unable to look into her eyes. He knew what she was thinking- that this was just further proof that being apart from Phil was not something he could handle.

“Peri, this changes nothing, okay? Now that I know he’s okay, I can go back to avoiding him… forever.” She rolled her eyes – _was that even physically possible for cats? -_ and walked away, clearly done with him. Dan stuck his tongue out at her back and sat back on his heels. Time to get back to regular life.

The next night, however, Dan was panicking more than ever. He sat cross-legged on the floor of the kitchen, eyes glued to the window and ears tuned to the radio as it droned, “Current reports say there is another demonstration by the vigilantes happening right now in downtown London. Members of this new vigilante group are marching down the street and antagonizing the public with their disrespectful chants. There are reports that it’s getting pretty violent, with fights breaking out in the crowd…”

Dan sat, immobile, for another hour as the demonstration continued and turned into a riot. His nails cut red crescents into his skin as he clenched his fists, desperately trying to remain calm. Peri lay curled in his lap, but even her comforting warmth couldn’t calm him down.

This was how every raid night and demonstration night since the fight with Phil had gone- Dan unable to do anything but listen to the radio, fear spiking in his blood until exhaustion forced him into sleep until the next morning.

Tonight, the riot was starting to sound worse than ever, and Dan couldn’t but wonder how many more nights of raw tension his body could take. The kitchen grew darker as the night set in, and at half-past one, Dan’s eyes were just beginning to feel fuzzy when he heard it.

There was a faint knocking on the door to his shop downstairs.

_Oh god oh god what if it’s the looters-_ Dan felt his heart stop as fear raced through his veins. Many of the riots had ended in raids, with the looters angered from the demonstrations and deciding to take it out on the witch population. There was no reason tonight would be any different.

The knocking sounded again.

Dan rose to his feet slowly, careful not to make a sound. His gaze darted around the apartment wildly, trying to think if he even owned anything that resembled a weapon. His eyes landed upon a large frying pan- _a frying pan, Dan? Really? -_ and he quickly picked it up, holding it in front of him as he crept down the stairs.

The knocking came again, sounding fainter, and Dan tried to reason with himself. Surely looters wouldn’t knock, right? They would just bust in and destroy everything- there was no reason for them to knock.

Even so, he held the pan in front of him as he moved towards the door, coming to a stop in front of it and trying to see out of the peephole into the dark night. “Please…”

Wait, what? Dan pressed his ear on the door- had he just heard that? Unable to bear the suspense anymore, he unlocked the door and swung it open- _Phil._

Except it was Phil as Dan had never seen him before. He was sagging against the doorframe, unable to hold up his own weight with shaking legs, and _was that blood on his face and his hands and his jacket fuck fuck-_

Dan rushed forward and caught Phil just as he started to collapse, stumbling back into the shop. Off balance under Phil’s taller frame, Dan fell to his knees, Phil draped over his torso. “Oh Phil oh god Phil please god Phil-” nonsensical whispers spilled from Dan’s lips as his eyes ran over Phil’s body.

Horrible bruises littered Phil’s face and arms, purple blooming around one of his eyes as it started to swell up, sickening blood trickling from his nose and staining his porcelain skin- “Dan…” a cut on Phil’s lip began to bleed when he whispered Dan’s name.

“Shhh, no please, you don’t have to talk, it’s okay, Phil, it’s okay,” Dan babbled incoherently, panic building in his chest and turning his vision hazy and- _breathe._ He couldn’t panic, not now, not when Phil needed him.

_Breathe._

Okay. He could do this. Dan shoved all panicked thoughts to a far corner of his mind and laid Phil onto the floor gently. “Peri, stay with him!” he shouted as he ran to the back room to get supplies, not needing to look back to know she was already beside Phil.

He moved faster than he ever had in his life, grabbing salves and potions off the shelves and running back to Phil. His wounds were in too many different places for Dan to be able to what he had done for Phil last time- that kind of magic had to be concentrated solely into one place.

So instead, Dan had to rely on his work, instead of his natural power. His own potions. It would have to be enough.

His trembling hands cleaned Phil’s wounds, fingers tracing prayers into the marred skin. Phil seemed to have passed out, his breathing shaky in a way that made Dan worry about broken ribs. He was grateful that there were no clouded blue eyes watching him, though. Dan didn’t think he would be able to look at the bruises surrounding their electric gaze.

 Painstakingly spreading bruise salve over most of Phil’s face and his arms, Dan forced himself not to think about whoever did this, forced away mental images of Phil crying out in pain. Instead, he poured yarrow down Phil’s throat to stop the bleeding from his nose and didn’t let himself think about it as he lifted Phil’s shirt to inspect the damage there.

Only a few bruises stood out against the expanse of marble skin, but Dan knew there was a broken rib hiding under there somewhere. Dan held his breath as he drew a healing rune onto Phil’s skin, his fingers shaking almost too much to inscribe it correctly.

Dan pierced his index finger and placed it onto the rune, bowing his head and letting the magic flow through his blood and into Phil’s body. One again, fire crackled in his blood as waves of power crashed inside him, swelling ever higher until finally- he felt the rib fuse back together.

Dan let out an exhausted breath as he removed his finger, limbs weak from the sudden draining of magic from his body. He carefully pulled Phil’s shirt back down and lifted his gaze only to jolt at the sight of two bright blue eyes staring straight at him. Dan let his hands fall from Phil’s side and curl into tight balls at his sides.

He parted his lips to speak, to ask Phil what had happened, to tell Phil he was so sorry, to tell Phil to never scare him like that again, but Phil beat him to it. “This wasn’t exactly what I had pictured for the first time you got to undress me,” he breathed, bloody lips cracked into a smirk.

Dan slapped a hand to his forehead, “Oh my god, Phil. Only you would make a joke in this situation.” Phil started to laugh, but it broke off sharply- no doubt from the pain in his ribs. Unable to keep his hands at his sides any longer, Dan let his fingers clutch onto the material of Phil’s shirt, thumb brushing over his side almost unconsciously.

“Phil…god you scared me, you giant dork,” he whispered. Phil smiled gently, eyes soft. His hand slowly rose to cover Dan’s on his side, warm against Dan’s skin. Dan wasn’t totally positive there was any air left in his lungs.

They were silent for a moment, a blush rising in Dan’s cheeks as he stared at Phil’s hand over his own. “I’m sorry, Dan,” Phil said quietly. Dan’s eyes shot to Phil’s, but his gaze was fixed on the ceiling as he continued. “I shouldn’t have called you a coward, and I’m sorry for hurting you by not being truthful.”

Dan’s jaw dropped, “Are you seriously apologizing to me right now?” Phil frowned, “Yes…?” Dan shook his head furiously, “Phil, that…that was all my fault. All of it. You did nothing wrong.” He stared at the floor, throat tight with shame.

“I was being stupid about it because…because of my own issues…and then I went and provoked you like that- I would understand if you couldn’t forgive me,” he bit his lip worriedly and hesitantly glanced up at Phil. “I’m so sorry.”

Phil shook his head, “Of course I forgive you, Dan. Of course-” he cut himself off, and his hand tightened around Dan’s, whose blush only deepened. He looked around the shop, then at Peri, who could feel the emotions swirling inside of him and seemed to know what he was about to do.

Fourteen- year-old ghosts had held him back long enough. It was time. Dan took a deep breath and looked straight into the summer sky of Phil’s gaze.

“Phil, there’s something I have to tell you.”

 


	15. The True Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a bit shorter- but it was the right place to end it, ya know? And I don't even know why I bother promising happier chapters (okay but actually soon I PROMISE)....sorry ((:

_Fourteen years ago fourteen years ago fourteen years-_

Dan swallowed hard and tried to look anywhere but at Phil. Was he really about to do this? Suddenly, he felt, rather than saw, Phil sit up with a groan of pain. He was _injured_ , what was he thinking-

Dan’s eyes darted to him immediately, but any scolding he might have done died in his throat at the sight of Phil’s eyes intently locked on him. “What is it, Dan?”

Dan took a deep breath and stared hard at Phil’s hand still over his, the warmth from Phil’s skin settling into his very bones. “Okay, so…you know how I told you my parents died when I was fourteen?” Phil nodded slowly.

Dan took another breath, splintered glass filling his throat as the memories began to whisper in his mind. “That was true. But I didn’t tell you the whole story. So…that’s what I’m doing now. Because- because you deserve to know.”

His eyes caught sight of Phil’s, brown on blue. Earth on sky.

“Just- just, before I explain…this is not an easy story for me to tell. I’ve never told anyone the whole thing before.” His voice sounded too small in the silence of the shop around them. Phil tilted his head and smiled reassuringly at Dan. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ll listen, no matter what.”

 Dan nodded and cast his mind back to the early days. The days _before._ He smiled a little, remembering. “My parents…they were great parents. Strong, and smart, and very much in love, and- every kid thinks their parents are superheroes, you know?”

His smile grew. “Well, I knew, that in the case of my parents- that was true. There was nothing they couldn’t do. They were witches, too- my dad was a plant witch, just like you.” He looked up to flash a small smile at Phil, who was staring at him with impossibly tender eyes. “And my mom was a diviner.”

Phil furrowed his brows, “So, she could see the future?” Dan nodded and looked back at their intertwined hands. “Yeah, parts of it. And the past, now and then. Sometimes…sometimes I wonder why...” he took a shaky breath,” …why she never told us what would happen. Or if she even knew.”

His fingers were just barely beginning to tremble. “So…so my childhood was pretty great. I had these two amazing parents who loved me, and loved each other-and I didn’t understand, yet, about the whole city of London hating us and everyone like us because of our magic.”

Dan still remembered those days, honeyed and golden in his mind. His mother’s too-loud laugh echoing in his ears and his father’s gentle hands smoothing his curls and love love _love_ surrounding him, always. Now, it felt like that had been a different family entirely. A different little boy named Dan. A different story, with a happily ever after ending.

“That all changed when I turned eight. The city was just beginning to tip into genuine turmoil, with tensions starting to rise between humans and magickind. My parents were not the kind of people to hide from their enemies, however.”

Dan bowed his head, “They weren’t weak like me. They were… fearless.” Phil made a noise of dissent at that but Dan ignored him and continued, the words heavy on his tongue. “So when the first signs of real discrimination started to appear, my parents didn’t just sit back and do nothing. They…they created the resistance.”

Phil sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, but remained silent, his hand tightening around Dan’s. Dan wished he would hold it tighter. “For two years, I watched them arrive home late every night, exhausted and sometimes…sometimes wounded. They worked incredibly hard, building grassroots resistance from the ground up as their group grew. And I wanted to be just like them.”

He remembered his parents coming through the door late at night in those days, still larger than life, still all-powerful, still his entire world- even as the bags under their eyes grew and bruises began to blossom on their limbs. They were never too tired to ruffle his curls or swing him around in the air, though. Never too tired to smile and call him their _golden boy_.

Dan took a shaky breath, “I didn’t understand how dangerous it really was, at the time. I begged them every day to let me go with them to their meetings. To let me help.” He smiled wryly at the floor, “They always refused.”

“That continued for two years. I got used to the silence of our home, as they spent all their available time organizing the resistance efforts. They became famous in the witch population of London, known around the city as…the leaders of the resistance.” Dan bit his lip, and whispered, “I was so proud.”

“That was what I held on to when the kids at school started to call me names, stuff like maggot-eater and Satan-lover, that they no doubt had overheard their parents call witches. That was what I held on to when they refused to play with me or sit near me because they were afraid I would ‘contaminate’ them. I held onto the deep pride that I had for my parents, the two- the two greatest people in the world.”

A tear dropped into Dan’s lap, and he touched his cheek in surprise to find traces of tears there. Phil said nothing still, but his other hand rose to settle on Dan’s back, his warmth lending Dan strength. “But…but then…after two years…there was a riot. Bigger than there ever had been before, and it turned violent. The policed showed up, and started-started arresting a bunch of people. My parents…they were arrested and thrown in prison.”

His fingers were trembling more noticeably now, shaking under Phil’s larger hand. “I was so scared. I went to live with my uncle in this shop, and I had barely even met him before then- and I cried myself to sleep every single night.” He could still see the Dan of fourteen years ago sometimes in the corners of the shop if he looked hard enough, too small for his age and sobbing into his knees, a tangle of curls decorating his head.

“But that wasn’t the worst part, not even close. They were sentenced for five years, which is eternity to a ten-year-old. And- we found this out much later- they…were tortured in prison.” His voice cracked and Dan held back a sob, forcing himself to continue. “What no one really realized was how desperate the government at the time was to stamp out the resistance for good. They tortured my parents like war prisoners, doing anything to get information out of them.”

“My parents were in prison with a couple of other resistance members, but that was it…The other prisoners weren’t exactly friendly, since a lot of people at the time thought witches were taking their jobs and threatening their families and- just the same stupid shit they spout today. So the other prisoners…they-they would beat up my parents too, and-”

Dan slipped his hand out from under Phil’s and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying in vain to block the flow of the tears. His voice was muffled as he continued, but he had to continue, _he had to- “_ My mom-she wasn’t always the healthiest person, she got sick a lot- and- and-she just couldn’t take the physical torture. She…she died after four years in prison, the day after I turned fourteen.” There was snow falling around them now, thick and white, as Dan’s control over himself and his magic deteriorated.

The glass in his throat cut deep as he went on, “And then- three days later, my dad-my dad killed himself in his cell.” A sob wracked Dan’s body, “He didn’t want to live without her.” Phil’s hand pressed firmly into Dan’s back, radiating warmth as he moved closer and placed another hand on Dan’s knee.

“Dan…Dan, god, _Dan…_ I’m so sorry…” Phil’s voice was shaking. Dan gulped a breath of air, not wanting to let himself give up when he had gotten this far. He owed this to Phil. “We got the news a week later. I- I was devastated. Beyond belief.”

Fourteen-year old Dan sobbed silently in the corner, tucked into a ball between two shelves as snow swirled deep and blinding around his tiny form.

“It was the darkest time of my life. I…I never want to go back there. Ever.” Dan swallowed around the glass in his throat and continued,” I stopped going to school and became my uncle’s apprentice instead, and he- he helped a bit. He wasn’t really the warmest of people, but he cared about me. He made sure I stayed alive, didn’t do anything too destructive.”

White flakes dusted their shoulders and decorated Phil’s hair, sparkling against the dark strands. “But then, when I was twenty, he died too. And- and I was really, truly alone.” Dan looked up suddenly and found a pair of electric-green eyes staring at him from his side, full of love. “That was when I met Peri,” he said as he smiled at the little black cat. “And I wasn’t so alone anymore...” he trailed off.

“For four years I was kind of okay- a lot better than I had been in a while, which counted for something…and then I met you,” he raised his head to find Phil’s eyes still locked onto his every move, blue gaze full of sadness and empathy and a bit of anger, and-something else, something Dan didn’t have a name for.

The shop was silent around him as snow continued to fall, and the cloud of black grief that was choking him and had abated for the moment, rose in his chest once more as the weight of everything he had just told Phil crashed around him. “That’s why I was so upset when I found out you were in the resistance, Phil. I can’t- I can’t see someone I know go through the same thing my parents did. I can’t just watch as the past repeats itself.”

His mom laughed as his dad twirled her around the kitchen, sunlight pouring in from the window and highlighting the golden strands of her hair.

His mom cried as Dan looked at her through the smudged glass of a visitation cell in prison, his dad’s arm tight around her shoulders.

_Fourteen years ago-_

“I can’t lose another person I care about.”

The silence stretched around them and there was a tidal wave building in Dan and the snow was falling faster, thicker, and Dan felt the invisible wounds he had hidden for so long slice open and then all of a sudden- he was sobbing.

He was sobbing and shivering under the snow and Dan knew he must look absolutely pathetic, but- he suddenly felt long arms snake around him and lift him easily onto Phil’s lap and he was still crying, but his tears were now soaking Phil’s shirt, his head pressed to the crook of Phil’s neck.

And through his tears, through the snow, through the grief, he felt Phil bow his forehead to rest it against the top of Dan’s head as he whispered into his curls, “You won’t lose me.”

The world felt suspended into a single moment in time as they sat there together on the floor of Dan’s shop. Phil wound his arms tighter around Dan’s shaking pieces, his own heart aching over this boy in his arms. This hollow-boned, honey-soaked, impossibly strong boy who was breaking right here, in his arms.

And Phil tried desperately- _desperately-_ to hold him together.

“You won’t lose me.”

 

 


	16. The Purple Bands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh I feel like I could've written this chapter better...oh well, I hope you guys like it anyways! And I'm just gonna stop promising less angst because it's that's just pure lies at this point lol sorry

1:37

Dan glanced at the clock for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes, then let his gaze fall to the tiles below him once more. He was back to the old routine- cross-legged on the kitchen floor, radio on. Tension rattling in his bones.

He wondered if it would always be like this- a date with his cold kitchen floor and the radio every raid night until the city stamped out the resistance for good- or the resistance won. Whichever happened first.

1:39

Dammit, eleventh time. Dan let out a sigh and watched the night sky outside instead- until dark clouds began to obscure the moon. _Don’t think about that particular omen do not think about it-_ divination was stupid anyway- all guesswork.

Dan sighed again and steadfastly refused to let himself look back at the clock. Peri blinked at him from the corner as his fingers began to drum his knee erratically, trying to release the rubber band tension inside of him as it stretched and stretched, threatening to snap-

“Dan?”

Relief flooded his entire body, shaking his limbs slightly with its sheer force. _He was back._ “Y-yeah, one sec!” He jumped up, switching off the radio and stumbling down the steps to the floor of his shop, where soft ocean eyes and tired limbs were waiting for him.

Dan came to a stop and watched as Peri, who had scampered down the stairs seconds before Dan, was gently picked up and cradled against a black leather jacket. _Phil was back._ There were purple half-moons stamped under his normally bright eyes, and clear exhaustion was wrapped around his limbs, and clothespins were holding up his shaky smile- but he was safe.

“Hey.”

Dan could barely breathe from the sheer relief. He pulled himself together- just barely managing to keep his hand from coming to rest on Phil’s arm- and gestured for Phil to follow him to the backroom. He busied himself with making tea as Phil fell into one of the chairs, groaning.

“God- I am so incredibly tired. Sorry I’m back so late- the raid was way worse than any of us expected and it took a lot more time to clean up the collateral damage afterwards.” Dan turned around from the kettle just in time to see Phil rub a shaky hand over his face, lanky limbs sprawled everywhere.

“Oh, it’s fine!” He handed Phil his mug, who smiled gratefully and took a long sip. “Yeah, totally fine. Me and Peri just hung out- I figured you were just busy, or whatever.” Phil quirked an eyebrow in obvious disbelief as he set the mug down.

“So if I were to think that you had spent the last three hours since I left sitting on your kitchen floor and listening to the radio, I would be wrong?” Phil asked lightly, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice. Dan rolled his eyes and dropped into the chair across from him.

“Okay, fine. There is a slight possibility that that may been what happened,” he replied, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he refused to meet Phil’s gaze. Phil sighed, “Dan. You have got to stop doing this to yourself. I thought we agreed that you would try not to worry so much about my involvement in the resistance.”

That had been the arrangement. Dan would not freak out constantly about Phil being in the resistance, and in turn, Phil would first return to Dan’s shop on every night he was out and let him know he was safe before he went home. Most of the time, it led to late-night conversations soaked in sleepiness and measured in cups of tea.

They had been practicing this routine for a couple of weeks, and for the most part, it was going decently. And then there were nights like tonight.

Dan glared at his tea, “We also agreed that you would come back on time and be _careful.”_ There was too much hurt in his voice for it to sound as snappy as he had wanted it to be. Phil set down his mug, “I know, Dan, and I am being careful, I promise. I had no way of knowing the raid would last so long, though.”

Dan sighed- Phil was right, as usual. But there was still leftover tension clattering around inside of him- making his fingers jittery and barbing his words- and he didn’t know how to get rid of it. “Hey.” He looked up to see Phil’s eyes trained on him, softness tinting his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I know you were just worried. And I know…I know this is still really hard for you,” he said, the words feather-light in the air between them. “It’s okay, Dan.” There was silence for a moment before Phil spoke up again.

“Also, you waiting up does mean that I get tea, so. There are some benefits,” he smirked at Dan, who rolled his eyes but let a grateful smile tug at his lips. “You have an unhealthy obsession with my tea, you know,” he replied, both boys falling back into the easy banter that was never far from their reach.

“I’ve begun to consider the possibility that you’ve laced it with something addictive- to keep me at your bidding,” Phil replied off-handedly, considering the warm liquid in his mug. Dan shrugged, “Maybe that’s been my plan all along.” Phil faked a shocked gasp and they both chuckled before slipping into a comfortable quiet.

Dan let the tension seep from his bones and watched amusedly as Phil gradually began to fall asleep sitting up. His eyelids were drooping, his head nodding forward, and his hair was mussed adorably- it was just altogether too endearing, really.

Guilt started to curdle in Dan’s stomach. Here was Phil, bone-tired from working all day and then all night, facing danger every day just to fight for what he believed in- and he still came to Dan’s shop to reassure him.

To let him know he was safe.

And Dan? Dan let him do it, even as he knew how selfish it was, how much of a coward it made him look like to Phil. Well- how much of a coward he _was._

_Weak little witch boy-_

Dan forced those thoughts back, allowing himself this: a sleepy Phil in the chair across from him- too perfect, too warm for this dusty old shop and the cold city surrounding them. He turned this moment of fragile peace over in his hands- tucked it to his chest to be saved for later- and then got up to shake Phil awake.

 

The next morning found a barely-coherent Dan squinting at the harsh sunlight in his shop and trying to pretend like he was actually being productive as he sat behind the counter. These late nights were really starting to get to him, even as used to sleep deprivation as he was.

He was just starting to nod off, his head resting on the palm of his hand, when the door to his shop swung open violently, nearly banging into the wall behind it. Dan let out a squeak of surprise and proceeded to fall off his chair.

“Shit, sorry Dan-” Dan propped himself up on his elbows and glared at Phil above him as he poked his head over the side of the desk. “Are you alright?” he asked guiltily. “I would be a lot better if I was still in my chair,” Dan responded sarcastically, but allowed Phil to help him up.

Phil smirked, “How is it my fault that you’re jumpy?” Dan raised an eyebrow in response, and Phil chuckled, “All right, alright- I’m sorry. Happy?” Dan nodded, smiling faintly, “I suppose. Now what happened? You’re not usually this early- or this loud.”

The small smile on Phil’s face slipped away and he looked intently at Dan, his eyes losing their happy shine. “Haven’t…haven’t you heard?” Dan sighed, “Phil, you know I basically never leave this shop- just tell me.” Phil drew in a shaky breath and crossed his arms, looking out the window.

Dan was not feeling particularly optimistic about whatever this news was- Phil refusing to look at him was a telltale sign.

Silence filled the shop for a while longer, with Phil still refusing to look at Dan and Dan getting progressively more nervous. Finally, he broke- “Phil, just tell me- please. You’re…kind of scaring me.” Phil’s gaze snapped back to Dan and the cold sea glass of his eyes softened as he looked at him.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just-” he broke off and sighed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Dan- the city just passed a new law. They’re beginning…a city-wide magickind registry.”

_What?_

Dan’s breath caught in his throat, and he forced back down a wave of fear- _think rationally, Howell._ “What- what does this mean?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. Phil was watching him carefully, and Dan could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

“So- we all have to register with the city that we’re witches, or diviners, or warlocks, or whatever- and…and we have to carry identification with us at all times now whenever we go outside,” Phil’s voice was steady, but Dan could tell there was an undercurrent of anger, of _defiance._

“It’s because of the immense pressure from the anti-magic interest groups- they basically have the government in their pockets,” Phil continued, the shade of contempt in his voice growing stronger. He was silent for a moment, watching Dan, and then- “That- that’s not all. We…we have to wear a purple band around our arms at all times- to identify us…as magickind.”

The air rushed out of Dan in a gasp- it felt as though he had just been punched. “ _What?_ But- Phil- E-everyone will know that we’re witches…Our shops will be raided- no one will even shop here- _Phil-”_ White panic was climbing the walls of his vision- there would be no safety for them anymore, no- _no-_

Firm hands wrapped around Dan’s arms as his knees buckled, breaking his fall as both boys sank to the floor together. Dan felt Phil’s warm hands steadying him, felt Peri’s comforting presence at his side, but most of all- he just felt numb.

There was nowhere he could hide, now. Not even in his own skin.

_Weak weak weak-_

“Dan- Dan! Stop it, please- breathe with me, c’mon.” Dan closed his eyes and forced himself to match Phil’s breathing as he continued to talk Dan down from the cliff of sheer panic he was balancing on. “Dan, Dan- we’re not going to do it, obviously.”

Dan opened his eyes as the bulk of the immediate panic subsided. “Won’t- won’t they find out if we don’t?” Phil looked uneasy, “No- how would they find out? If we don’t register, then they won’t know. It’ll be fine, Dan, don’t worry.”

He hadn’t met Dan’s eyes once as he replied.

 

Two nights later, Dan stared at the dark windows of his shop. He really _really_ needed to get more ginseng if he was going to make his order of relaxation therapy salts on time. The problem was- the only place he could get ginseng was a Himalayan herb shop…a twenty-minute walk away.

And Dan? Dan was more than a little nervous about venturing outside right after the law for a _fucking_ _magickind registry_ had been passed. He twisted his fingers together and stared out the window some more.

_Weak boy weak witch weak-_

He sucked in a sharp breath. He was so tired of being scared all of the time. So tired of being a burden on Phil, making him come to Dan’s shop late at night when he was already exhausted- just so he could comfort poor little Dan.

_Weak little Dan-_

Dan stood up suddenly and strode towards the door, pulling on his coat as he went. “Hold down the fort for me, Peri!” he called as he stepped outside. It was time for him to stop being such a coward. Time for him to actually act like the witch he was.

Whatever illusion of bravery Dan had deluded himself with disappeared quickly as he walked briskly in the cold, dark night. People rushed by him in a mass of faceless black, the moon shrouded by clouds overhead. He saw shadows and eyes narrowed in suspicion everywhere he looked, his own paranoia heightened.

And above all- purple bands. There weren’t many- obviously much of the magic population was taking the same course of action as him and Phil- but there were some. Their wearers all walked with their heads down, trying their best to blend in with the background.

He caught the gaze of one elderly lady, her eyes dull as she sat tucked against the side of a shop, purple band around her arm flashing under the streetlight. There was a sign next to her- “Blind. Anything helps.” The basket in front of her was empty.

Nobody wants to help a witch. Dan didn’t stop to wonder why she was wearing the purple band- didn’t she realize how much worse it would make everything for her? Instead, he dropped several bills into her outstretched hand and hurried away as she started to whisper her thanks.

_Only twenty minutes, just calm the hell down._ Dan took a deep breath and managed to keep himself from truly freaking out for the duration of the walk to the shop.

Once he had finally gotten the damn ginseng, Dan headed back out into the night, starting to feel kind of proud of himself. He was walking around at night, without a purple band, and not freaking out-mostly. Maybe he was really starting to get less afraid.

That was when he heard it.

A cry of surprised pain sounded from further down the street, and Dan looked up to see a hulking man tower over a much smaller elderly lady. The man held her arm in a steel-like grip, dragging her half-off the ground.

Without thinking, Dan walked toward them quickly. As he got closer, he could hear the man spitting insults at the lady. “Filthy old hag, I saw you try to pickpocket me! Don’t think I didn’t notice! You should be exterminated like the vermin you are!”

Dan was closer now, and there- there was a purple band around the lady’s arm.

It was the blind lady from earlier.

The man shook her violently, and she let out another cry, babbling, “No, no I didn’t- I swear, please- please- no!” Dan started running towards them. “Hey!” he yelled out, surprising himself as much as the man and lady. “Stop it!”  

The man looked up and scowled at Dan, “Fuck off, twat. Mind your own damn business.” Anger- tinged with fear, but growing- filtered through Dan. “She didn’t do anything- stop hurting her,” he shot back, trying to make himself seem as menacing as possible.

Unfortunately, a short, slightly scrawny young man carrying a pink Himalayan shopping bag was not a particularly menacing image, and the man didn’t seem to take it as such. He let out a short laugh, “Or what? You’ll whack me with that bag of yours?”

Dan scowled, “She’s _blind._ How could she possibly pickpocket you?” The man snorted, “Her kind doesn’t need to see to steal. It’s in their nature. She probably used some of her freaky magic.” Dan growled in frustration, “Let her go- she didn’t do anything!”

The man rolled his eyes, “Just fuck off, already.” In the next moment, he was yowling in pain as the lady fell to the ground. She was just getting up when he growled and grabbed at her again, “You little bitch- you burned me! You are just asking for it now!”

He threw her to the ground and raised a fist to punch her when Dan, in a single, thoughtless moment, rushed in between them- “Stop!”

The last thing he saw was a meaty fist rushing straight towards his face.

_Weak._


	17. The Witch Registry (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? She uploads within a week?? Is the Earth still turning?? I'm just as surprised as you are, honestly...hopefully you guys still like it! And this chapter is hella long woops (igotcarriedawaysorry)

_Fuck._

There was a dull, throbbing pain in his left eye, and a burning sting in his palms, and a deep ache in his side, and- _fuck._

Dan tried to open his eyes, but only succeeded in cracking open his right one- only to be greeted by a view of his bedroom ceiling. _Wait, what?_ How did he get here? Just what had happened last night? Dan sifted through what few memories he had of the previous evening.

Purple bands- and blind eyes- and angry shouts- and a fist rushing towards his face- and the stars swirling together into a blur above him- and darkness.

Well. That about summed it up.

How had he gotten home, though? He didn’t remember walking home, not really- just pain, and the stars, and- he must’ve gotten home _somehow._ And the only way that that could’ve happened is him walking. Okay, so he walked.

He definitely didn’t remember coming inside, though, and neither did he remember getting up to his bedroom…Whatever, his memory was probably just hazy from all the pain. Now if he could just open his other eye- Dan tried again to open his left eye, but was only rewarded with a stab of pain.

Okay, so no.

Time to try something else. He carefully tried to prop himself up on his elbows, and had nearly succeeded when one of his elbows decided to slip on the sheets, harshly propelling itself right into his side.

 _Fuckfuckfcuk-_ Dan let a pitiful-sounding whine of pain as he sunk back down onto the bed. Alright, so apparently getting up would not be on the immediate agenda. He breathed in deeply, desperately wishing for the spiking pain in his side to subside.

“Dan?”

Dan whipped his head to the side- _fuck, ow_ \- and let out a tiny gasp of surprise. Sprawled out on his floor, right next to the bed, was Phil, all gangly-limbed and sleep-mussed hair and bleary blue eyes. Upon seeing Dan move, Phil quickly got up and stumbled over to kneel by the side of the bed.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t know you were awake,” he whispered, and a lock of his dark hair was literally sticking straight up and a red mark had bloomed on his cheek from sleeping on Dan’s carpet. Dan smiled involuntarily at the sight- _cute_. “Just woke up actually,” he replied softly.

There was silence for a moment, and then- “Phil?” Phil hummed in response. “Not to be rude, but…why are you here?” Phil let out a short laugh, but Dan watched as the smile fell from his face and his eyes to the floor a moment later. “Dan…do you not remember what happened last night?”

Dan sighed, “Well, I definitely remember pissing off this guy- who was being an absolute _dick,_ by the way- a few streets over. And- I got punched. Which really hurt, actually. And then-,” he winced at the memory. “Then he started kicking me a bit, I think- in the side…and I think- I think then he left? And I guess I walked home after that and went to bed…”

Phil was shaking his head. “Dan…Dan, why-why the _hell_ were you walking alone at night so far from the shop a couple days after a witch registry was passed?” Dan squirmed uncomfortably. “Because I really needed ginseng and I have a work ethic that’s heavily based on procrastination?” he replied nervously.

Phil chuckled in spite of himself. “Oh my god, Dan. Okay- just. Try to be more careful, okay?” He sighed, “Ugh, now I sound like you.” Dan smacked his arm, “Hey!” Phil smirked at him and ran a hand through his hair, which only managed to make the piece of hair stick up more. Dan resisted a chuckle as Phil looked back up at him again.

“But seriously, Dan…what happened? Why did he do- this, why would anyone…hurt you like this-” Phil’s eyes traced over the bruises that bloomed on Dan’s face, his gaze burning fiery blue with- with- _anger-_

Dan let out a long breath. “I was walking home from getting the ginseng, and this guy- he was yelling at this old woman, and shaking her, and threatening her, and- accusing her of pickpocketing him. Except- Phil, she was blind. I had passed by her on my way there and she was _blind._ ”

Phil’s brow was still furrowed. “And so- I didn’t think, I just walked over and told the guy that she couldn’t’ve pickpocketed him, seeing as how she was blind and all, and- he didn’t back off. So we got in a bit of an argument, and he- he finally got fed up and was about to punch her…and I kind of got in the way.” Dan stared at the ceiling, steeling himself.

“Phil, she was wearing a purple band.”

He looked over to see Phil bow his head, his free hand clenching into a fist. “Phil…?” He looked up at Dan, eyes full of scorching blue fire. “I can’t believe- well, actually I can, but- _god._ He beat you up- because of _that?_ And that poor woman- is she okay?” Dan nodded, “She escaped while he was…occupied with me.”

Phil visibly pulled himself together, fist unclenching as he let out a long breath. The flame of anger in his eyes wasn’t fully extinguished, however. Dan let the silence wrap around them for a moment, then- “So you never really answered my question.” Phil nodded, “Oh yeah, sorry…”

“Alright, well…You walked most of the way home, but I think Peri must’ve sensed that you were in pain- she was yowling like crazy outside my shop.” Dan looked to the foot of his bed, where he saw a ball of black fur watching them with steady green eyes. He smiled at her, sending silent thanks her way.

“So I went outside, and you were already at the end of the street, and-and- you weren’t walking right. Just…kind of staggering, almost, and I ran over to you, and- _god,_ Dan-” Phil broke off and buried his face in his hands. Dan reached out a hesitating hand towards him, but chickened out at the last second and left it resting on the sheets in front of Phil.

 Phil brought his hands down from his face and seemed to almost unconsciously place his hand over Dan’s as he continued. “Your face was all bruised, and you were- kind of wheezing, and your hands were bloody- you must’ve fallen- Dan. I was so _scared-”_

He placed an impossibly gentle finger under Dan’s chin, lifting it slightly so they were looking eye to eye-smoldering blue blue _blue_. “Promise- promise you won’t scare me like that again?” Dan tried desperately to find air in his lungs. “Y-yeah,” he replied at last, swallowing heavily.

And just like that, Phil’s hand was back over Dan’s and his eyes were on the floor once more as he continued. “So I brought you up here, and I tried my best to bandage you up- sorry in advance, by the way,” he smiled. “I’m nowhere near as practiced as you in first aid.”

Dan raised his eyebrows, “You better not have screwed me up even more.” Phil chuckled. “Guess we’ll find out.” Dan rolled his eyes, but let a hint of a smile pull at his lips as Phil met his eyes again. “And…then you fell asleep on my floor,” Dan finished.

Phil grinned sheepishly, “Yeah- sorry about that.” Dan rolled his eyes, “Don’t be sorry, you idiot.” He sucked in a breath and continued softly, “And…thank you. For taking care of me.” Phil shook his head, “Of course I- of course. You’ve patched me up quite a few times before too, if I remember correctly.”

Dan repressed a shudder- _Phil unconscious Phil covered in blood Phil barely breathing-_ “It was nothing.” Phil raised his eyebrows but remained silent. His hand was still on Dan’s- creamy skin warmer than the morning sun outside the window and Dan just wanted this moment to stretch on for a few days, months even, except-

He snorted. “Phil, I’m sorry- but it’s been _so_ hard to take you seriously this whole time with your hair like-” he broke off into laughter once more, gesturing at Phil’s head. Phil reached up a hand to feel the piece of hair pointed straight at the ceiling. “What- hey!”

Dan was still laughing. “You dick! I was trying to be all serious and- stop laughing, hey!” Phil was laughing now too, and Peri was definitely rolling her eyes at them, and- this, _this._ He wanted _this_ moment to stretch on for a good two years, at least.

A few days later, things were back to normal- or as normal as two witches living in hiding in the middle of London could be. The swelling around Dan’s eye had finally gone down so he could see again, and the nasty bruise surrounding it was starting to fade, as well as the bruise on his side (thanks to liberal use of his miracle-working bruise salve).

Best of all, there hadn’t been a raid night in almost week. The bags under Phil’s eyes had receded a bit and he was back to smiling with full force. Dan kind of missed their late-night conversations, but- Phil was okay. That was the most important thing.

It felt- safe. Normal and peaceful and _safe._ And letting themselves believe in that safety- letting down their guard- that would only prove to be a mistake.

_Bang bang!_

Dan jolted out of the daydream he had sunk into while stirring potions. It had involved a significantly less…dressed Phil and- well, anyways.

_Bang bang bang!_

“Coming, coming, sorry!” he called out, turning down the stove and wiping his hands on his apron. Honestly, couldn’t people read his “closed” sign? He had been closed for hours at this point. Muttering to himself, he walked over to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open to reveal-

A breathless, frantic Phil grasped Dan’s arms and propelled him back into the shop, slamming the door behind them. “Hey-!” “Dan- _Dan!”_ Phil cut off Dan’s indignant protest, eyes full of wild seas and- _fear?_

“Dan, listen. The city- the city is-okay, not all of the magic population signed up for the magickind registry, you know? In fact, only a tiny amount did. And- the number that signed up is way too low- the city knows there are way more of us, so- so- tonight. Tonight they’ve decided to go around all the magic neighborhoods and basically force any magickind they find to sign up for the registry.”

Dan felt his stomach drop. “W-what? Phil- _Phil-_ ” “I know, I know- okay, it’s going to be fine- we just have to stay calm, alright?” Phil’s hands were still firm around Dan’s arms, and he was pretty sure that was the only thing holding him upright. He kept talking, but Dan- he couldn’t hear the words that fell from Phil’s lips, couldn’t even feel his hands anymore-

“Dan!” His name, desperate in Phil’s voice, sounded in his ears as Phil gripped him tighter. “Dan- now is not the time to freak out- please stay with me, Dan-” “I’m here, I’m fine- sorry, sorry,” Dan stuttered, forcing himself to breathe normally and focus on Phil.

“Okay- okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. They can’t do anything too drastic- we’re still citizens, after all. Which apparently doesn’t mean we have the right against unwarranted searches, the bastards, but anyways- they can’t beat you up or force you to do magic or anything, so- they’re just going to search for magical objects and stuff in the shop.”

Dan tried very hard to keep his breathing normal. “Well, that’s lucky- not like magical objects make up my entire shop or anything.” “I know, Dan- don’t worry, I’ll help you. I know some transport spells that’ll probably let us move a bunch of stuff. And they’re not going to know any of your products are magical- they’d have to get them tested in the lab for that.”

Dan nodded and forced the racing thoughts in his head to slow down. It would be fine fine _fine_ \- except. “Phil, what about your shop?” Phil stepped back, hands dropping from Dan’s arms- _and Dan definitely did not immediately miss their warmth-_ and smiled wryly. “Luckily, plants-while they may have magical properties- aren’t considered magical objects themselves. So I just have to clear up a couple things in the back and I’ll be good.”

Dan nodded and crossed his arms around himself tightly. “So…how much time do we have?” Phil strode past him, already making his way to the backroom. “An hour, tops!” he called over his shoulder. Dan gasped and ran after Phil, “Shit!”

The next sixty minutes were perhaps the most stressful of Dan’s life thus far. He and Phil both knew a couple levitation spells, and were able to transport large quantities of magical ingredients, spell books, potion books, crystals, and rune inscribers at a time up the stairs and into Dan’s apartment.

Levitation spells were slow, though, and fucking _tiring,_ too. Halfway through yet another sprint down the stairs, Dan glanced at his watch- _thirty minutes left._ He shoved the screaming, panicked thoughts further into the corner of his mind, and continued sprinting down the stairs. He couldn’t be weak, not now.

Finally, they managed to levitate the last trembling pile of floating glass bottles and books up the stairs and into Dan’s apartment. _Twenty minutes left._ Still catching their breath, Dan and Phil stood in front of the door to his apartment at the top of the staircase. Now it was time for the real magic.

In one movement, the two witches raised their left arms and traced the rune for concealment side by side on his door, raw magic streaming through their veins and flowing into the runes as they glowed white-hot against the dark wood.

_Sixteen minutes left._

Dan’s hand was shaking slightly from the force, and he could see Phil’s was too out of the corner of his eye, but neither witch stopped tracing the rune, over and over again. At last, the runes stopped glowing and sunk into the door, leaving no trace of their presence.

Would it work? Would the police be able to see through it, through their attempt at saving themselves, through their desperation?

Both witches let their arms drop once it was over, gasping for air as the magic left them in a final, exhausting rush. _Fourteen minutes left._ “Phil- Phil, we have to go- we have to hide the stuff in your shop,” Dan said, the tinny voices of the panicked thoughts in his head already growing louder.

Phil shook his head, “No- stay here, I’ll take care of it. It’ll be suspicious if they find both of us in the same shop, stay here and check for anything we missed, okay?” Dan frowned, “Hell no. You helped me this whole time, now I’m going to help you.”

_Thirteen minutes left._

“Dan-no, I told you- it’s just a few things, I don’t need help, alright?” Phil began to jog down the staircase, but Dan would be damned if he let Phil just do this on his own, so he followed him right down. “Phil, it’s only fair- please let me help, I know you have a lot of shit you need to hide, c’mon.”

Phil shook his head as he briskly walked to the door, “It’ll be _fine,_ Dan, seriously- we can’t be seen together, you know that. Stay here, please.” Dan ran over to the door, prying it open just as Phil tried to close it behind him. “Phil- _Phil-”_

_Eleven minutes left._

Phil turned and, upon seeing Dan’s face, the stoniness in his eyes lessened considerably. “Dan, don’t worry- I’ll just be next door. The police won’t find anything, I’m sure of it. That was one hell of a concealment spell we just did. They’re going to open that door and see nothing but an empty room.”

He leaned closer to the doorway, and- for one heart stopping moment- cupped his hand to the side of Dan’s head, so so lightly- _as if he was made of glass_. “It’ll be okay, Dan. Stay.”

And with that, he was slipping from the doorway and running down the street to his shop, flashing a quicksilver smile at Dan from over his shoulder as he jogged down the sidewalk. Dan sagged against the doorway. _Had he really just-?_

“Dammit, Phil,” Dan grumbled as he backed into his shop and closed the door once more. He whirled around and surveyed his shop- innocuous remedies lining the shelves, inventory papers spread over the desk, a few houseplants that had migrated over from Phil’s shop in the corners- it looked like a normal, non-magical apothecary shop.

_Eight minutes left._

He could already hear the search beginning a couple streets over- faint crashes and sirens in the distance. _Not long now._ For the first time in the past hour, Dan felt- really felt- the waves of panic rising inside him as he listened to the sounds of people’s lives being torn apart.

Soon, it would be his own life- even if Phil believed otherwise.

He didn’t know how he knew, but- even if it wasn’t today, or the next day, or the day after that- he knew he would be caught. After all, if his parents- who were strongsmartbrave _better_ \- hadn’t been able to escape fate, what chance did Dan have?

_Nothing more than a weak little witch boy-_

_Five minutes left._

Dan forced himself to get up and stumble to the backroom, paranoia racing through his veins and propelling his limbs forward. The shelves were now lined with nothing more than a few bottles of cleaning fluid, the stove clear of anything but the kettle he used to make tea for himself and Phil.

  _Three minutes left._

Dan walked back into the shop, his fingers beginning to tremble. The sounds were growing ever louder. They had to be on his street by now. Peri rubbed her head against his ankle, sending waves of reassurance to Dan. He smiled shakily down at the little cat.

_Two minutes left._

“It’s gonna be okay, right Peri?” She meowed softly in response, pressing closer to him as loud voices and crashes sounded from across the street. _God_ , he hoped Phil had managed to hide everything in time. He sent a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening, whether it was the earth or the gods.

_Please- please-let Phil get out of this mess okay._

_One minute lef-_ “Open up, it’s the police!”

_They were here._

 


	18. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghh I'm sorry for the late update...I was hella sick last week )): On an unrelated note, I've realized that this story has become so much more complex than I ever planned on lol it just keeps growing by itself and I'm just?? When did this happen???

Dan was barely breathing.

There were several policemen coming in the door, barging through the entryway and spilling into his shop. They looked _wrong,_ dark uniforms and shining guns out of place among his shelves of remedies. They were _wrong_ and this was all _wrong_ and _Dan_ _was barely breathing._

_Pull yourself together, Howell._

He forced air into his lungs and stepped forward, pasting a shaky smile onto his face in an attempt at seeming totally normal and calm and definitely _not_ freaked out. “H-hello! How can I help you guys?” The nearest policeman regarded him with thinly-veiled distaste before nodding to the others.

“Start searching,” he commanded, before turning back to Dan. “We’re simply conducting some routine searches to help ensure public safety and complete compliance with some recent laws. Nothing to worry about…if you’re a law-abiding citizen.” Dan forced himself to stay still and appear normal as the other officers starting rifling through the shelves.

“And…what, exactly, are you searching for?” he asked, shooting for casual and falling a bit short. The policeman looked around the shop before answering, suspicion clear in his eyes. “Magical objects and instruments. If any are found on these premises, you will be required to register for the city-wide magickind registry and begin wearing a purple band at all times, as well as carry identification.”

Fear was clawing its way up the walls of Dan’s mind, but he couldn’t help but feel anger, too. _How dare they just conduct unwarranted searches on innocent citizens?_ “Don’t you need a warrant, or something?” he asked, a bit too testily. The policeman snapped his gaze to Dan’s, and- he could _feel_ the pure disgust that radiated from the police officer.

“Not for _magickind,_ ” he answered, spitting out the last word as though it were poison in his mouth. Dan felt slightly faint. He had expected the police officers to be biased, but not this much. If they were already this suspicious, the slightest mistake would- _it will be fine it will be fine it will be fi-_ a crash sounded from the corner of the shop.

Dan whirled around to see a whole shelf of bottles shattered on the floor, the remedies inside them spilling out onto the floor. _Wasted_. The careless officers who had knocked them over simply ignored the mess and continued to shuffle around, upending more bottles as they went.

“Hey-!” he called out indignantly, surprised. They ignored him completely. He spun back to other police officer, who merely looked bored as he looked over his checklist. “They- they just-!” Dan began to protest, but the officer cut him off.

“All damages will be reimbursed in due time,” he droned, with the air of someone who had repeated that line countless times. Dan clenched his fists. It was obviously a lie-if they hadn’t even bothered to get warrants, there was no way the city would pay for all this damage. If they had been, the officers would be acting with much more caution.

“Listen,” Dan started, anger starting to burn inside him, “I don’t have any magical objects, alright? So-” Another crash sounded from behind them, and Dan turned to see his entire batch of burn salve- _fuck, he had spent weeks on that-_ crash to the floor, ruined. “Can you tell your officers to be more careful?” he said angrily.

The officer sighed, looking bored. “All damages will be reimbursed in due time,” he repeated, and went back to the checklist. Dan seethed, “Listen, this is ridiculous. I haven’t committed any crimes, and I’m a citizen. You have no right to treat me like a criminal!” More crashes sounded from behind them.

Dan whirled around to glare at the other officers, “You’re definitely just doing it on purpose now. If you’re going to unlawfully search my shop, you need to at least be respectful of my property. I can- I can report you, or something…” No response. Another crash.

Dan turned on the other officer. “Tell them to stop damaging my property, or-” The police officer held up a hand, cutting Dan off. “Before you go further, I would like to remind you that you are in no position to be threatening a police officer.” Dan felt his mouth drop open- _what the fuck, seriously-_ as the officer turned to the others.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s check upstairs.” He gestured to the staircase, and the other officers nodded and started up the stairs. Dan and the other officer followed behind, a cold snake of fear slithering up Dan’s spine and tightening around his throat. What if the runes weren’t strong enough? What if they hadn’t worked at all?

What if, when the officers opened the door, they would see what was really there? All the rune inscribers, the spell books, the potion books, the crystals, the- _breathe, Howell._ The first officer reached the door and began to turn the handle.

Dan held his breath.

_Please let it have worked pleaseplease-_

The door slowly swung open, to reveal-

_Pleasegodpleasepleasegodplease-_

An empty room.

Sunlight streamed through the lone window onto the dusty, bare floor. The room was small, and stuffy, and dirty- and completely fake. All of it was fake- right down to the specks of dust on the floor. The officers regarded it for a moment before walking in and peering around carefully. 

It was obvious there was nothing in the room, though, and so they left after a couple minutes. Dan followed them back down the stairs, dizzy with relief and his lungs filling with oxygen once more. _He and Phil had actually done it._ He came to a stop in front of the officers.

“Is- is that all?” he ventured. The officers actually looked a bit disappointed, still peering around the shop suspiciously, but the one in charge sighed and looked down at his checklist. “I just need to fill this out and then I need you to sign and answer a couple questions, but…it appears that you will not have to participate in the registry.”

Dan let out a shaky breath of relief and was just starting to feel like his lungs were made of something other than stone, when- he saw it.

Laying just in front of a potted plant to the right was a single healing crystal, no doubt dropped from one of his and Phil’s levitating spells. It was just out of the way that they would have easily missed it before, but now…Dan froze. If any of the police officers happened to turn that way and look in that direction- they would see it.

_They would see it and- and- fucking arrest him for concealing shit or whatever fucking crime they could come up with- and he- he would go to prison, just like...just like his parents, just like-_

_Fourteen years ago-_

Dan forced himself to remain perfectly still and tried his hardest to keep his breathing at a normal level. He couldn’t let them notice- _shit shit shit-_ he had to keep calm, had to keep his wits, had to be smart about this. He started as the officer shoved a form at him, tapping the signature line with his pen.

Dan walked over to his counter on shaking legs to sign it, hopefully drawing their attention away from the direction of the crystal. Straining to keep his hand from trembling, he signed the form and walked back to the officer, not letting his gaze go anywhere near the crystal.

_Oh god what if they see it please god please no-_

The officer crossed his arms, looking bored now that they couldn’t pin anything on Dan. “So just to reiterate-you are not one of the magickind?” Dan shook his head. “And you are not in possession of any magical objects or instruments, correct?” Dan nodded. “And you will report any unregistered magickind that you are aware of?” Dan’s breath hitched, but he managed to nod.

_Please don’t let them see it please god-_

The officer nodded and turned to the other officers. “Alright boys, let’s go.” Then they all turned and starting walking…straight towards the crystal- _fUCK shit shit SHIT!_ Just then, a sudden yowl made the officers jump and turn around to see-

-Peri, meowing loudly by the doorway, in the completely opposite direction of the crystal. Dan let out a short breath of relief as the officers turned away from the crystal to scowl at the cat. “Can you shut up your cat, mate?” asked one of the officers as they walked out the doorway.

Dan flipped the guy off when he turned his back and waited until they had closed the door behind them before running over to Peri. He scooped up the little cat and held her close to his chest, exhaling shakily into her warm black fur. “Thank you Peri, god- you’re so smart, thank you, thank you,” he said, smiling down at her.

She blinked warmly at him and nuzzled her cheek into his wrist. Dan closed his eyes and let the waves of relief sweep through his body, bringing him to his knees as Peri curled closer into his chest. Boy and cat sat together on the floor for several long moments, as crashes continued to shake the street outside and ruined magic surrounded them.

Dan let the moment stretch out around them, let them hide away in this little bubble of peace, for only a minute longer before he was setting Peri down and getting to his feet. _Phil._ “Peri, we have to…” he didn’t need to finish his sentence to know she understood what he was thinking.

_Phil._

Dan had to know if he was okay. He looked around at his shop- broken glass and spilled remedies all over the floor, leftover tension clinging to the dusty corners- and sighed. His wasted work would have to wait- Phil was the priority right now.

_He has to be okay he has to be-_

Not even bothering to put on his jacket, Dan stepped out of the shop, locking the door behind him. He would just casually walk over to Phil’s, not raise any suspicions, simply check on him quickly- Dan turned around to face the street, and was met with…destruction.

Immediately, he was thrown back in time- to rounding the corner and seeing the first ever raid night take place right in front of his eyes. He had stopped, frozen, unable to believe his eyes. The furniture in the street, the cries of children, the fear, the _chaos-_ it was all the same.

Except this time, it was taking place right in front of his home. And this time, it was not caused by crazy hate groups. This time, it was done on government orders. This time, there would be no resistance to save them, not at midday and in the presence of so many police.

Dan gaped, legs threatening to crumple under him as he stumbled forward into the street. How-how had it gotten this bad? Was this what the police had done to the people who had refused to sign up for the registry? Thrown their possessions into the street? Destroyed their homes?

All around him, there were people. Witches. Crying and shouting in the streets and trying to save their businesses, their homes, their children, their lives- all from the stigma that came with their birth. And they were all powerless to do anything about it.

_Fourteen years ago-_

Standing there in the street, Dan knew- really knew, for the first time- that there was no safety anymore. Not for Phil, not for him, not for anyone. It would only get worse from here. There was no point in ignoring it anymore. Ravens flew overhead and his destiny beckoned with a bloody smile, teeth bared.

Weaklittlewitchboy Dan would end up just like his dead parents.

_Fourteen years ago- no stop it- fourteen years ago- stop it STOP IT- fourteen years fourteen years- STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-_

“Dan.”

Dan whirled around, his knees scraping painfully against the pavement- _when had he fallen to his knees?-_ to see Phil kneel beside him, tender blue eyes full of worry and pain. Strong arms encircled Dan and he buried his head into the side of Phil’s neck out of instinct.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, we’re fine…” Phil whispered comfortingly, his thumb drawing soothing circles onto Dan’s back. “They didn’t find anything, right? Dan, please, tell me they didn’t find anything.” Dan shook his head slightly, and Phil let out a long sigh of relief.

“Thank god, me neither…we’re okay, Dan, don’t worry.” Dan squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled the comforting, earthy scent that was so inherently _Phil._ How could he tell Phil that he was sure his destiny was carved into a gravestone next to those of his parents?

He was so _tired_ of being weaklittlewitchboy Dan.

Dan breathed in Phil’s soothing scent one last time before pulling away to look at Phil, noticing for the first time the purple bruises that marred the skin around one of his beautiful eyes. “Phil, what-?” Phil grinned sheepishly, one arm still holding tight to Dan. Anchoring him.

“I got a bit mouthy with one of the police officers when they tried to turn over my endangered acacia koaia on the premise that I could’ve hidden a spell book under the pot,” he admitted. Dan smiled softly in spite of himself, one hand coming up to gently trace the outline of the bruise.

“I would get you some bruise salve, but…the officers shattered my entire batch.” Phil’s eyes, which had closed when Dan began to trace his bruise, flew open- his blue gaze stormy and full of anger. “Bastards,” he spat. “I’m sorry, Dan.” Dan shook his head.

“It’s fine…I got off a lot better than most people, from the looks of it.” They were both silent as they surveyed the destruction surrounding them. Phil glared at the ground, “Most people weren’t able to hide everything like we were- that’s probably why. This…this is their punishment.” Dan watched his fingers as they trembled in his lap.

_Fourteen years ago, a weak little witch boy named Dan-_

For fourteen years, Dan had been running. Avoiding anything that could have revealed his secret, holed himself up in his safe little shop, and blocked out the world. But now- _but now_. As Phil kneeled beside him with a bruise on his face and government-ordered chaos raged around them, he knew it was time for him to stop running.

His destiny may be nothing more than a repetition of the past, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him anymore. Fuck being a weaklittlewitchboy. Fuck fourteen years ago. Fuck-

His parents walked out of the door in a whirl of scarves and hidden protection runes, leaving for what would be their last demonstration (of course, nobody but fate knew that). Ten year-old Dan, all knobbly knees and tangled curls, ran after them. “Please- Mum, Dad, please can I come tonight?” They paused and smiled at each other before his mother bent down to Dan.

“Not tonight, Dan, but soon. You- you are going to make us _so proud_ one day, I know it. You…you are golden, my love.” She winked and his father grinned at him, and Dan watched as his parents walked out into the black night, shining and strong and _the two greatest people in the world._

It was time to make his parents proud.

“Phil, I want to join the resistance.”


	19. The Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally sat down to write this chapter and was just like, "...wait where the fuck am I taking this story?" which is honestly pretty representative of this entire fic...ALSO this one's hella cheesy I feel so weird lol

Dan was drowning.

_In the eye of a hurricane-_

He thrashed desperately, black water churning violently all around him as he tried in vain to stay afloat. Dan gasped for air as the water soaked his face, threatening to send him under with every swell. He cried out for help, but the howling wind snatched his voice from his throat before he could even form words.

_Oh god someone help please anyone oh god-_

Dan struck out with his arms, but could barely manage to stay upright in the heaving water as the current tugged at his feet, trying to drag him into the depths of the sea. Dark waves rose like skyscrapers all around him, crashing over his head as the current pulled and pulled and pulled and _he was going to go under-_

Dan was drowning.

Another wave crashed over him and the wind was screaming and the current finally latched hold of his ankles and- and- he slipped underwater.

The world went black.

_In the eye of a hurricane-_

The water continued to writhe around him as Dan was dragged deeper, and deeper- he no longer had any idea which was way was up, or even his own name. All he knew was dark water- and fear, and-

_I can’t breathe._

Dan could feel his lungs filling with water, could feel his mind growing fuzzy from the lack of air as his chest heaved- he was going to die. Here, surrounded by darkness and the unforgiving sea, and the only thought left in his mind was-

_I can’t breathe._

In a futile last attempt at survival, Dan struck out weakly with his limbs, but only succeeded in propelling himself ever deeper into the sea.

_I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe-_

Phil.

_Phil?!_

There he was, right in front of Dan as the water began to churn more violently, tossing Dan wildly in its depths. Except- Phil stayed right in front of him, unmoving. His eyes glowed in the dark water as he watched Dan calmly, black hair floating around his head.

_In the eye of a hurricane, there-_

The water was writhing, out of control, as the wind wailed and Dan’s world was turned on its head over and over again. He couldn’t breathe and he was drowning and the world had become nothing more than inky chaos, yet Phil- Phil remained still.

_In the eye of a hurricane, there is calm._

Dan opened his mouth- to cry for help, for Phil, for- but the water rushed into his throat, choking him. Dan gagged- _I can’t breathe I can’t-_ and through his blurry gaze, he saw Phil come closer, reaching out a hand-

“Breathe, Dan.”

Dan jerked backwards in confusion as Phil’s voice filled his head. He hadn’t even opened his mouth, and yet- Dan had been able to hear him clearly. The water didn’t stop heaving, though, and his lungs were still screaming for air, and- _I can’t I can’t breathe Phil please help me I can’t-_

“Dan. Dan, breathe.”

Phil tapped Dan’s forehead.

_Tap tap._

“Breathe.”

Blackness rushed around the edges of Dan’s vision until all he could see was two electric blue eyes, glowing brighter- and brighter-

_Tap tap tap._

Dan jolted upright.

He looked around wildly, only to be met with a view of his shop, instead of churning waves. _It was just…just a dream._ His chest heaved as he struggled to return his breathing to normal, the remnants of fear and panic from the dream still skittering along his veins.

_Tap tap tap._

Wait. That had definitely been in his dream…what-? The tapping sounded again, and this time it sounded like it was coming from beside him. Dan whipped around in the chair to look at the window beside him, and-oh.

Phil. Again.

He was tapping on the window, standing outside in the chilly London night. Phil grinned when his eyes met Dan’s, and he gave a little wave before gesturing to the window pointedly. Dan hurriedly got up and unlocked the window, opening it and leaning out- only to find his face right in front of Phil’s.

_Blueblueblue eyes porcelain skin lips quirked into a smile-_ Shit. He leaned back quickly, gulping. “Did you forget I was coming?” Phil teased, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Dan smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, no, I just- accidentally fell asleep.”

Phil shook his head, “Falling asleep at ten o’clock? What a grandpa.” Dan smirked, “I believe you’re the old man here, actually.” Phil smiled as he rolled his eyes, the joke a familiar one between the two of them. “Why are you even at my window? Why didn’t you just knock like a normal person?” Dan asked.

Phil raised an eyebrow, “I did knock. Many times. Unfortunately, the lazy ass who owns this shop was taking a nap and didn’t hear me.” Dan chuckled shamefacedly, “Oh, yeah- sorry.” Phil smiled softly as he watched Dan for a moment before his expression grew more serious.

“Okay, are you ready to go?” Dan felt nerves begin to scramble up his spine as he twisted his fingers together. “Y-yeah…I’m ready.” Phil began to back away, “Good. Meet me at the front?” Dan nodded and closed the window before hurrying to the front of his shop and pulling on his jacket.

He opened the door to find Phil leaning against the doorframe, clad completely in black with a matching scarf wrapped around his neck. A black leather jacket was clutched in his hands and Dan didn’t have to unfold it to know a bright red sigil would be painted on the back.

He looked, well- cool. Which was stupid, because Phil wasn’t _cool._ He was a huge plant nerd who insisted on petting cats even though he was allergic to them, for god’s sake. Even so…he looked damn good in black from head to toe… _okay, calm down Howell._

Dan looked down at his own black jeans and black sweater, tugging the ends over his hands. “Is…will this be okay?” He asked, embarrassment swelling inside of him as a blush threatened to stain his cheeks. _God, he felt stupid._ He literally wore this stuff every day, what was wrong with him?

He looked up to see Phil stand still in front of him, normally clear sky eyes now unreadable as he traced them over Dan’s body. Silence stretched between them for one long moment and Dan shifted nervously. Phil seemed to shake himself before meeting Dan’s eyes, smiling reassuringly. “Of course, Dan. You look…fine. Great, in fact, um-”

Wait, was Phil _blushing-_? A car alarm went off several streets over, making both of them jump. Phil rubbed the back of his neck, turning towards the street. “We should go,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Dan. Dan nodded and locked the door behind him as he followed Phil out into the night.

“Isn’t it a bit risky to carry that around in public?” Dan nodded to the jacket in Phil’s hands. Phil shook his head, “Not if I just carry it so you can’t see the sigil- it looks like any other jacket.” He smiled at Dan cheekily, “And besides, this is part of our ticket in.”

They walked the streets of London together, a good number of people still out and about even though it was nearing half past ten on a weeknight. Dan stuck close to Phil, letting the unexplainably comforting effect that Phil’s presence seemed to have on him help dull his nerves.

They had been walking for several minutes in silence when Phil peered down at Dan, smiling a bit. “I can hear your mind whirring from over here. You don’t have to be so nervous, you know. It’s only a meeting- not like we’re going to be performing ritual animal sacrifice or anything.” Dan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help fidgeting with the ends of his sweater.

“I know, I just-” he trailed off, eyes falling to the cracked sidewalk as they continued to walk. _This feels too much like watching my parents walk out the door every night for two years. This feels too much like fourteen year-old ghosts and ravens breathing down my neck, too much like-_

Dan forced himself to shove all those thoughts to the back of his mind. He was doing this, no matter how he felt. _It’s just a meeting, for fuck’s sake._ He glanced up at Phil, who was still looking at him patiently. “Sorry, I’m fine,” Dan said, smiling apologetically.

Phil shook his head, “Dan- I didn’t mean it like that, you’re allowed to be nervous. It’s totally understandable, considering…everything. I just-” he sighed, glancing up at the sky before his eyes fell to Dan once more. “I just don’t want you to fall too far in your head, you know?” he finished softly.

The image of Phil, unmoving in the violent water as he reached a hand out to Dan, surged to the forefront of his mind’s eye out of nowhere. _The eye of a hurricane-_ Dan blinked a couple times to dispel the image before offering Phil another smile, this one genuine. “Thanks, Phil…but I’ll be fine. I’ve got to do this,” he said firmly, facing forward once more.

Phil smiled softly at the back of Dan’s head as he marched forward purposefully, before reaching out and tugging at his arm. “Hey, slow down. Actually…. we’re here.” Dan turned, surprise evident on his face, “Already?” Phil nodded and gestured to the dark shop beside them, which was completely nondescript.

It looked like any other shop on the street, lights dark for the night and a “closed” sign propped up on the inside of the door. “It’s…here?” Phil smirked at him, eyes bright over top the black scarf as he tucked it around his mouth and nose. “Yep.”

Dan furrowed his brows at the innocent-looking shop but shrugged off his suspicion. He was with Phil, after all. Phil stepped forward, another scarf that he must have been hiding under the other one now in his hands. “C’mon, it’d be for the best if you could hide your identity a bit as well- just to be safe.”

Dan nodded and was about to reach out for the scarf-but before he could do so, Phil was coming to a stop in front of him, blue eyes suddenly very serious. Dan felt his breath catch in his throat as- ever so carefully- Phil wound the scarf around Dan’s neck, gentle fingers brushing against his exposed skin- _as if he was made of glass_.

_I can’t breathe-_

Phil finished tucking the scarf over the bottom half of Dan’s face and for a single moment- _blue eyes too close blueblueblue-_ both men were perfectly still. It felt as though the world had slowed to a stop around them (- _in the eye of a hurricane-)_ as blue eyes latched onto brown and Phil’s fingers were still resting on the delicate skin of Dan’s neck and _I can’t breathe-_

In the next moment, Phil stepped away suddenly, face hidden in the shadows as he cleared his throat. “We- we should probably go inside,” he murmured, turning back towards the shop as Dan struggled to get his lungs functioning again.

Phil led Dan around the corner of the shop, where a rickety metal staircase led down into what looked like a basement entrance into the shop. They descended the stairs slowly, Phil looking carefully at the street around them as Dan tried to recover from whatever the hell had just happened with that scarf.

Once they reached the bottom, Phil came to a stop in front of an ominous-looking door, half-hidden in the shadows. He reached out slowly and knocked on the door- just in time for a wave of fear to crash over Dan as the reality of what he was doing washed over him once more.

He was about to join the resistance.

Fourteen-year-old Dan sobbed in the corner of the shop, alone while his uncle was out collecting ingredients for remedies. Snow swirled thick around his tiny frame as he rested his head on his knees, letting the tears flow freely as the white snowflakes blanketed his form.

He tilted his head to look at the door, vision blurry with tears as screams sounded in his head and black grief choked his lungs. He could only sob as his mind focused onto one panicked, wailing thought- his parents would never walk through that door again. They would never call him _our golden boy_ again, never hug him, never-

His parents were never coming back.

And it was all because of the fucking resistance- the faceless group that had been both his parents’ creation and their ultimate downfall.

The snow fell faster, thicker- filling the shop with icy flakes as a broken little boy clenched his trembling hands into fists and vowed to never- _never-_ become part of the group that had taken his parents away from him.

“Dan, you okay?”

Dan sucked in a sharp breath and focused on the image of Phil in front him, knuckles still resting on the door and summer sky eyes soft with worry. Dan nodded quickly, trying in vain to shake off the feeling of cold snow on his shoulders and grief in his lungs. “Yeah, I’m- I’m-”

Phil stepped forward quickly, hands coming to hold Dan’s elbows lightly. “Hey- hey. Dan. It’s okay, alright? We can just leave if you want, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Dan nodded again, desperately trying to regain some semblance of calm.

He would be weak, just this once. Dan let himself take a step closer to Phil, just enough to let his scent wash over him as Phil gripped his elbows tighter. Dan bowed his head and took a deep breath. _Steady, Howell._ He looked up into Phil’s eyes, which were full of unguarded tenderness as they searched Dan’s face.

_In the eye of a hurricane, there is calm._

“Okay. I’m ready, Phil,” he said, with steel that he hadn’t known he possessed straightening his spine. Phil searched his eyes for a moment, before seeming to find what he was looking for in their depths and smiling. “Alright, Howell. Ready to be a rebel with a cause?”

Dan groaned, “Oh- oh my god. Please never say that to me again.” Phil chuckled and backed away from Dan, about to knock on the door again when suddenly- it swung open.

 

_And if I am a hurricane, you are the eye- the calm._


	20. The Resistance Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghh this took me a while to get up I'm sorryyy...wanna hear my excuse? Ever since I first started this story, this exact point in the story was the crossroads where I really wasn't sure where I wanted to go next...so this chapter took a lot of thinking. Also, shoutout to the five ppl still reading this lol I appreciate you a lot (:

The door swung open to reveal a bulky man blocking the doorway, his arms crossed and his entire body covered in black. Several amulets hung from around his neck, the dangling animal teeth and feathers giving away their purpose- amulets for strength and stealth. Dark, calculating eyes swept over Phil in one glance, then narrowed with suspicion as they caught sight of Dan, standing slightly behind Phil.

Fear clawed its way up Dan’s throat as Phil tensed and moved slightly in front of him. “We’re here for the meeting,” Phil said firmly, finally unfolding the jacket and letting the blood-red sigil shine in the light of the streetlights from above. The man shifted his gaze back to Phil and nodded at the sigil.

“Show me,” he said, voice muffled behind the dark cloth that covered all but his eyes. Dan looked on in confusion as Phil knelt, pressing his hand to the dirt-filled crack in the cement, and- _oh._ Grass sprouted from the crack, shooting up from the ground and spilling over onto the cement until Phil got up once more.

_You have to prove that you’re magical to get in._

It made sense, really- it was probably the best way to keep spies out. The man nodded, seemingly satisfied with Phil, and turned to Dan. “Now you,” he said shortly, thrusting his chin at Dan. Nerves skittered around Dan’s fingers, but he took a deep breath. He may have a lot of issues, but magic- magic he could do.

Phil nodded at him encouragingly as Dan reached up and snapped his fingers, a flame bursting out of thin air and lighting up the alley around them as it sparked at the ends of his fingers. “Alright, alright- put that shit away before someone else around here sees!” the man stepped forward threateningly, and Dan quickly extinguished the flame.

“S-sorry,” he stammered- _why had he thought a flame was a good idea what the fuck-_ as Phil shifted closer to Dan, glaring at the guy. “There’s literally no one here, calm down,” he gestured at the empty street above them. “Have you seen enough?” The guy nodded slowly, still glaring at Dan as he moved to the side to let them through. “Yeah, go on in.”

Dan followed Phil through the doorway, the weight of the man’s gaze heavy on his back as they walked past. He looked over his shoulder to see the man’s dark eyes still following him suspiciously, and quickly turned his head back around, only to be met with- darkness.

Pitch-black darkness, in fact- the kind where he couldn’t even see his own hand in front of him, much less Phil. “Phil, _Phil-”_ he whispered urgently, his already trembling fingers starting to shake harder. “Sorry, sorry-” Phil’s voice sounded to his left and Dan felt gentle hands grasp his left arm. “I’m here, sorry- I forgot how dark it is right here.”

Dan took a deep breath and let the feeling of Phil’s hands on his arms anchor him. “Don’t know why they keep it so bloody dark in here, honestly- it’s a bit overdramatic, if you ask me,” Phil mumbled indignantly as he led Dan further into the darkness. “So there’s no reason?” Dan asked after a moment, curious in spite of himself.

How close was this resistance to what his parents had led? Would- would anyone here have known them personally? Would anyone here have even heard of them? Or were their stories lost among the countless others who had died or been thrown in prison in the name of this resistance?

Questions swum in Dan’s mind and he shook his head slightly to force them away. He had to focus on getting through the present before he thought about the past. “Actually, I think it’s just in case someone is able to get past the guard at the door by faking magic or whatever. If they’re not with a resistance member, they’ll have no idea where to go.” Dan started, realizing Phil had just now answered his question.

He made a sound of affirmation to let Phil know he understood, before he was being tugged to a stop suddenly. The muted sounds of talking filtered around them as Dan felt Phil turn to him. “Okay, it’s just around this corner,” he said, his hands still emanating warmth through the sleeve of Dan’s sweater. “Alright…so why are we not going around the corner?” Dan asked, confused.

He heard Phil chuckle a bit. “We are, just- I just wanted to make sure you’re still good with going through with this. There’s…there’s no going back once we turn that corner, and- I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret, and…” he trailed off uncertainly. Dan reached up and tentatively rested his hand on Phil’s over his arm. “Thanks, Phil- but I’m fine, don’t worry. I have to do this.”

“Alright…c’mon, then.” Dan followed Phil around the corner, and they were both immediately swept into the crowd that surged in the small, dimly lit space before them. Dan gaped at the mass of black-clad figures, their faces hidden as people walked around the room in all different directions.

He had never seen so many magickind in one place before.

Amulets and crystals swung from necks, right out in the open instead of hidden inside shirts. Charcoal sigils and runes were drawn in stark, black lines onto any available patches of bare skin, a tradition that had died out in the public when the first signs of discrimination appeared long ago. And of course, everywhere- bloody sigils shone from the backs of leather jackets.

For the first time, Dan really - _really-_ felt it.

He was truly a part of this- this community. These were his people. These were his roots.

It made him feel closer to his parents, in a way.

Dan stood still in the gently ebbing sea of magickind, letting Phil’s light touch on his elbow keep him from being swept away as he felt the magic inside him buzz slightly in the presence of so many other magical beings. Nerves still sparked along his fingers, yes, but he felt oddly comforted.

He and Phil were not alone.

“You good?” Phil’s voice sounded quietly next to his ear in the midst of the chatter of the room. Dan twisted around to smile at Phil, who was looking at him worriedly. “Yeah- yeah, I’m good,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering too long on the way Phil’s eyes glowed in the dim lights. He gave Phil a grin to prove it when he didn’t look convinced.

“Really, I am. This- this feels right…if that makes sense…” Dan explained, and watched Phil’s eyes soften as he smiled down at him. “That’s great, Dan- I’m so glad.” Dan nodded and turned back around to watch the crowd once more. He was so goddamn lucky to have Phil, really- even if it wasn’t exactly in the way he wanted.

_You can’t have everything, Howell._

He stepped backwards, letting himself fall closer to Phil as he looked up at the line of his jaw- _so close-_ “Hey, Phil?” Phil’s gaze flew to his, and he tilted his head in question. “Thank you- thank you so much for taking me here…and being patient with my annoying ass.” Phil chuckled and was about to reply when Dan continued.

“You’re a really great friend.” At once, Phil’s mouth snapped shut and the blue of his eyes was pure ice for a moment as he looked away from Dan. “Sure…you too,” he muttered after a moment, giving Dan a tight smile before looking back up at the front of the room. “I think it’s starting soon.”

 Dan furrowed his brows, a little confused by Phil’s reaction, but there was no time to dwell on it because all of a sudden, the chatter was dying away as a woman climbed onto a stage at the front that he hadn’t even noticed was there. The crowed quieted down immediately as she stood up straight and surveyed the room.

Dozens of sparkling amulets and crystals were draped around her shoulders and neck, with the sigil for ferocity traced in clear white lines on her dark forehead. A circlet of animal teeth crowned her long black hair, and her eyes were bright yellow- _part werewolf, most likely._ That was surprising- there were hardly any were-kind left these days.

He believed it, though- there was something canine about the set of her jaw and the fierceness of her gaze. She was not someone he felt particularly inclined to piss off anytime soon. She spread her arms wide, sharp teeth glinting in the light as she smiled. “Welcome, friends,” her voice rang out clear in the small space.

“That’s Ailith,” he felt more than heard Phil whisper into his ear. “She’s basically the head- runs the meetings for the most part and leads demonstrations, at least. There are others, though.” Dan nodded to show he had heard, eyes still on the woman as she began to speak. “Thank you for coming to join us tonight, everyone.”

“Now, more than ever, we must stand fast with each other in the face of the new evils that arise to greet us- and being here tonight is only the first step.” She paused and looked around the room once more, her amulets glinting. “I know that many of you are scared- what with the witch registry being recently enforced and the raids continuing to wreak havoc on many magical neighborhoods, many of us are now out of jobs and homes.”

“Yes- you are scared. But…that. Means. Nothing.” She bared her teeth, enunciating each word. “Nothing. For too long we have held back and hid in the shadows. Well, no more! We are not of those who shrink back in the face of prejudice. We are of the magickind- and this is our resistance. We will stop at nothing to regain our rightful place as equal citizens in modern society!”

All around them, people nodded furiously, several letting out yells of approval. Ailith grinned and continued, “That is why we have decided to launch the next step in our fight against prejudice in this country. No longer will we be hunted by the government in the name of some registry.” Murmurs were spreading through the crowd like wildfire and Dan glanced up at Phil questioningly, but his brows were furrowed as he stared at Ailith.

 “We are going to take back that registry, and we are going to _fucking burn it.”_

 

Dan watched the midnight moon glow softly from the window as silence blanketed the shop. A slight clink of a spoon against porcelain dragged his eyes across the table to a where tired Phil was stirring his tea slowly. The moonlight made his skin glow softly, and Dan let the breath catch in his lungs as he watched Phil.

It felt a lot like the many sleepless nights before when Phil would stumble into his shop after a long night fighting off raiders for the resistance, and Dan would be sick with relief at the sight of him: bone-tired and dead-eyed, but _alive._

Those nights had always felt bittersweet-a haze of guilt at the sight of the purple half-moons under Phil’s eyes- but altogether too much like home for him to pass it up. This felt like that, felt like-

A moment of peace cupped carefully in his hands, but promises of storms ahead all around them.

_-the eye of a hurricane-_

Except now, he was in the resistance, too. Now, it would be both of them out there, fighting demons that used to be people and ignoring the inevitable. _Will I be good enough will I be good will I be enough-_ He looked back at Phil and felt his pulse jump when he found Phil was already staring right at him.

Blue velvet eyes were trained solely on him in the dim light, and Dan felt his cheeks warm at their intensity. “You good?” Phil whispered the question across the space between them, and Dan nodded in reply. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Dan’s head snapped up as he stared at Phil in confusion, who smirked at him over the rim of his mug. “Honestly. I know it’s been really hard for you…to get used to this, and fight back your past, and all. But, Dan-” he leaned forward, eyes intent. “Dan, you did it anyway.  You joined the resistance because it was the right thing to do, even though your parents…”

Phil trailed off, still watching Dan, before shaking his head and smiling. “I’m goddamn proud of you, Dan Howell.” Dan couldn’t help but grin back at Phil, a blush already rising in his cheeks. “Thanks, Phil.” He looked down at his fingers, twisting in his lap. “But…I would probably still be stuck in this shop alone if it hadn’t been for you. Actually-no. I would be wearing a purple band and cowering in my room, most likely.”

Phil shook his head, “You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know...I wish I could make you see that.” Dan stared hard at the floor, feeling his blush darken. “Phil…” “Don’t argue with me, Howell,” Phil said cheekily, effectively lightening the mood.

Dan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight a small smile from pulling at his lips. “I’ll argue with you if I want to, _Mr. Lester._ ” Phil shuddered violently, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me that, god- that sounds too weird coming out of your mouth.”

“Oh, does that bother you, Mr. Lester?” “Fuck off.” They giggled at each other over their mugs, and Dan tried not to think about the resistance or the registry or storms ahead- just this moment, cupped in his palms for a little while longer.

Storms and time don’t wait for anybody, though. They will come.

_-fucking burn it!_

And, when they do-


	21. The Next Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghhh this chapter was so hard to write for some reason...I'm still not happy with it but I think this is the best I can do for now ): also psa if you wanna see the sigil I'm talking about it's the protection sigil on the modern witches daily website (yes really)

“It’s happening tonight.”

Dan stared at the tiny fern in his hands without really seeing it, browning leaves fading from his focus as his mind raced. He didn’t need to ask Phil what he was referring to- there had been little else on either of their minds since the meeting almost a month ago.

_-fucking burn it!_

Tonight, the resistance was going to break into a government building and delete all the online archives of the witch registry, as well as…burn the paper records.

It was fucking madness.

“Dan?” He sucked in a sharp breath and set the fern down, turning to face Phil. “Yes?” Phil furrowed his brows, “I- didn’t you hear me?” Dan nodded, “I just…there’s nothing to say, really. It’s happening.” Phil crossed the room and lightly caressed the fern Dan had just been holding.

With a stroke of his fingers, the fern was perking up and unfurling coils of green leaves from the pot. Dan couldn’t help but smile at how gentle Phil was with the tiny plant. Phil straightened up and turned to Dan, blue eyes questioning. “Well…are you nervous?”

“No,” Dan lied, looking away from the piercing blue eyes that had never failed to see right through him. There was silence, and then- “I am, a bit,” Phil said softly. Dan’s gaze snapped back to Phil to see him cross his arms and look out the window at the gentle rain outside, cloudy eyes matching the sky.

“Why?” Dan ventured. Phil sighed, uncrossing his arms and looking back at Dan. “I don’t know, it’s just…we’ve only really gained momentum as a movement recently, and- well. What if we aren’t ready for an operation at this level?” They were both silent for a moment, before Phil spoke up again.

“And, honestly…this doesn’t feel one hundred percent right to me. Innocent people could get hurt tonight, and that’s just…not something I could ever really be in favor of. I just wish there was a more peaceful way to resolve this...” he trailed off, shaking his head. Dan lightly touched him on the arm, and Phil looked over at him questioningly.

“This is necessary, though, Phil. You know that. We have to show them that we’re serious about this.” Phil nodded, brow still furrowed in turmoil. Dan twisted his hands together, grasping for words that would smooth away the lines of worry on Phil’s face. “Besides, if we do this right, no one will get hurt,” he added. “Just think of all the people who won’t have to wear purple bands anymore. It won’t fix everything, but it’ll be a start.”

Phil’s face relaxed as he nodded, and Dan let out a quiet breath of relief. It was rare to see Phil unsure about the actions of the resistance that he believed in so strongly…and it was disconcerting, to be honest. Especially when Dan himself could taste warnings of danger in the raindrops that were falling outside.

He had to be strong, though- for his parents, and for magickind, and…for Phil. For Phil.

“You’re right, Dan,” Phil said suddenly, giving him a half smile before turned his gaze back to the rain. “It’s too late for peace at this point. We’ve tried demonstrations, but…the raids keep happening and the government’s doing nothing. We have to do this.” Resolve filtered back into the lines of Phil’s form and Dan felt a helpless smile tug at his lips.

Phil turned back to him, smiling brightly all of a sudden. “I just remembered- I have a surprise for you!” Dan tilted his head, confused. “A surprise?” Phil nodded, still grinning as he backed away from Dan. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” And with that, he turned and ran to the back room of the shop.

He reappeared in a moment with a bundle of black in his hands, walking back to Dan with a stupid grin still in place on his face. Phil came to a stop in front of him and shook out the bundle to reveal- a black leather jacket. _Oh._

Dan smiled, bemused. “This…is for me?” Phil groaned, “Please tell me you know what this is, c’mon-” Dan laughed, “Of course I do, you idiot! I just…didn’t expect this, that’s all.” He carefully took the jacket in his hands, running his hands over the fabric carefully. “I’m really in, huh?”

Phil laughed, “Of course you’re in! You’ve been _in_ , this just makes it official.” He lightly touched Dan’s hand to catch his gaze. “Want to paint your sigil?” Dan nodded, biting his lip to hide his grin at the thought. No matter what anyone could say about the resistance, one thing was inarguably true- the jackets were pretty fucking cool.

Dan voiced this thought to Phil as they walked back to the storage room in search of red paint, and reveled in the warm sound of his responding laugh. He spread the jacket onto the floor, mentally rehearsing the shape of the sigil as Phil handed him a paintbrush and set a tin of red paint beside him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Dan let the stirrings of magic within him flutter in his veins as he dipped his brush in the paint and began to form the sigil.  The familiar motions were calming- smooth circle, dots, crescent- and he let the magic sparking in his body flow into the paint. He sat back on his heels and regarded his work, the bright paint bloody in the low light.

 _Please protect us,_ he silently begged the sigil. Tonight- tonight, he and Phil and the rest of this goddamned resistance would fight with nothing but red paint on their backs and amulets around their necks to protect them.

It would have to be enough.

_It’s too late for peace-_

_-fucking burn it!_

 

Thunder crashed overhead as Dan tugged his hood up over his head and folded up the resistance jacket, sigil shining even in the dim light. _Oh god this is really happening oh god-_ he forcedly shoved those thoughts from his mind and focused on hiding his trembling fingers with the ends of his sleeves.

Minutes earlier, he had opened the door to blue eyes full of stormy seas and lips set in a thin line as Phil said, “They sent out the signal. It’s time.” Dan had felt the air leave his lungs as he nodded and turned to get ready. There was no time to worry or question- only the rising edge of helpless fear beginning to form deep within him. Finally, after slinging several amulets- _strength, stealth, luck_ \- over his head, he met Phil back at the door.

“I’m ready.” And with that, the two witches stole off into the stormy night together, nerves skittering through both of their bodies. Dan couldn’t help but feel the foreboding in the wind and the whispers in the rain. They were warnings of what was to come.

_Eighteen years ago, my parents were thrown in prison-_

_-history repeats itself-_

Dan gritted his teeth against the feeling of cold snow and fourteen year-old ghosts at his heels. History would not fucking repeat itself if it meant that Phil would be hurt- not if he could help it.

As they neared City Hall, Dan could feel the wind picking up as if in tune with the quickness of his breaths, the edge of panic within him ever higher. Finally, they reached the grounds, immediately letting themselves melt into the darkness with a touch of shadow magic as the dome-shaped building shone brightly before them.

Pressed against a wall behind some bushes next to Phil, Dan quickly raked his eyes over the surrounding area, but couldn’t find any trace of the resistance. _Good._ That meant everything was going as planned so far, at least. Now all they could do was wait.

They weren’t waiting long when, suddenly, each fluorescent light surrounding the City Hall building winked out one by one- leaving the area doused in darkness. Phil gripped Dan’s wrist slightly before letting go almost as quickly as he had taken hold of it. That was their signal.

It was beginning.

_It’s too late for peace-_

“Jacket,” Phil whispered, and Dan nodded. They were soldiers now, in this war between magic and ignorance- and these sigils were their armor. The two witches shrugged on their jackets and broke out from the shadows, allowing their magic to continue to blur their forms as they ran to the building.

All around them, Dan watched from the corners of his eyes as members of the resistance materialized from the darkness in all directions and joined them in running towards the building. Black jackets flapped in the wind and magic- blurred feet pounded against the pavement until they were surrounding the building- just as planned.

Except, it looked as though only around half of what he knew to be the full number of resistance members had shown up. _Fucking cowards…_ Not that he could blame them, really. There was a large possibility that many of them would be arrested tonight, if- _don’t think about that don’t think-_

The edge of panic that had been rising within him was a full-blown tidal wave at this point, and he was starting to choke on the salty water in his lungs. He pleaded the sigil on his back and the amulets around his neck to protect him and Phil- _please let it be okay please-_ but the wind kept screaming, and the lightning kept cracking open the sky, and- _we don’t have enough people-_

“Dan.” He looked up to see Phil, eyes gleaming in another strike of lightning. “Stay with me, okay? Please.” Dan could do nothing but nod back at him, wide-eyed. Phil’s fingers brushed against his wrist before he backed away once more, and Dan forced his thoughts to the corner of his mind.

The resistance encircled the building completely now, black forms barely distinguishable among the lashing rain. Dan looked towards the entrance and, sure enough, Ailith was standing in front of the doors, scribe at the ready. He watched as she traced a destruction rune on the door, burning bright with its power on the wood.

The door fell down at once with a crash that was barely audible over the rain, and there was a moment of tense silence as they watched for any signs of alert, but none came. Ailith gave the signal for the all-clear, and the resistance descended upon the door in one silent wave of black.

Ailith’s yellow eyes burned with intensity as she looked around at all of them. Speaking in a low voice, she commanded, “Group A, circle around to the back and enter from there. Scout out around the building and take out any guards you find. Group B, you’re with me to the records archives. Good luck. Magickind will rise tonight!”

Dan found Phil’s eyes in the dark- they were in Group B. _Of fucking course._ He felt, rather than saw, half of the people standing around them disappear into the darkness as Ailith stepped into the dark building, the rest of the members close behind her. He met Phil’s eyes once more- _and into the devil’s lair we go-_ before following them into the building.

The dark central chamber loomed away above them as they made their way deeper into the building, sticking to the walls and, as always, hiding themselves with shadow magic. Dan could feel his fingers trembling, every dark shape in the corner of his eyes forming the lines of a guard ready to catch him. _Stop it, Howell._

He forced his lungs to keep working as they continued to move past gaping black hallways and rain-beaten windows, working their way further and further into the building. So far, they hadn’t see any signs of guards. Dan was just starting to think that maybe this fucked-up plan would actually work when suddenly- “Hey! Who’s there? Stop where you are!”

A beam of harsh light swung wildly around the hallway, illuminating the faces of several members and momentarily blinding Dan. Immediately, the guard from the door at Dan’s first ever resistance meeting descended upon the man holding the flashlight from behind. He knocked him out with one, sickening punch to the head.

_It’s too late for peace-_

The man’s body crumpled to the floor, and Dan felt vaguely sick watching as his limp body sprawled unnaturally on the carpet. That was the first person hurt tonight. _At least he isn’t dead._ “Thank you, Cato,” Ailith whispered, and he merely nodded in response. “Let’s move!” she commanded, and they all rushed to fall into place along the walls as they went deeper and deeper into the building.

Countless hallways later, Ailith stopped at an innocuous wooden door, labeled simply, “Archives.” It was jarringly anticlimactic, but it was there all the same. They had made it to the archives. Dan looked around, desperately searching for Phil’s eyes, and found momentary comfort in their reassuring blue glow, even in the darkness.

Ailith traced her second destruction rune of the night into the door, and this one, too, fell to the floor with a crash. Except now, the sound of the rain wasn’t enough to drown out the sound, and they all immediately tensed in preparation. There was no sign of any disturbance, though, and they relaxed after a minute of silence.

Dan peered around the shoulder of a resistance member to see into the dark chamber, full of records and files. Ailith turned around and grinned, canines glinting. “Are you ready to get their goddamn attention?” she asked. There were yells of assent and her smiled widened. “Alright then. Light it up.”

And with that, the wave of black poured into the room, every hand alight with magical flames. Dan looked down at his own hands, pale and innocent in the darkness. A larger hand covered one of his own, and he looked up to see Phil nod at him, sad eyes full of ice and a reminder – _we have to do this._

_-fucking burn it!_

The room was already growing brighter as fire crackled among the shelves and files burned. Decades of records and work turned to ashes before his very eyes. How could he take part in this, how could he-

_Magickind will-_

Dan watched as his mother pressed a trembling hand to the smudged glass separating them in a visitation cell, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Dan watched as a fourteen-year-old boy sobbed in the corners of a dusty shop in the heart of London.

Dan watched as a child and her mother cried together, their forms painted with the flickering light of their burning home on the first night of the raids. The first night he had seen the resistance.

He looked back at his hands, and watched as flames sparked to life in his palms.

  _Magickind will rise!_


	22. The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn I actually teared up writing this- and I wrote this in the middle of a crowded airport lmao so...hope you enjoy this long ass chapter (:

City Hall was burning.

Dan could only watch, frozen, as smoke billowed into the night sky to the sound of screaming alarms. Flames were licking up the side of the building, and there were people screaming, and _the fire wasn’t supposed to be this big oh god oh god-_ “Dan! We have to fucking go, now! _Dan!”_

A hand wrapped around his arm and dragged him backwards, forcing his feet to stumble along the pavement as he tried to keep his balance. Dan couldn’t take his eyes off the burning building, though- the flames painting themselves onto the insides of his eyes- as he was pulled away.

_Wait-_

Red and blue lights- _cops-_ were flashing around the building as blue uniforms clashed with black jackets, screams mixing with the sound of sirens as the resistance ran for their lives. Dan could only stare in horror as member after member was arrested, slammed onto hoods of cop cars with their hands behind their backs, yelling for the others to run- _wait wait STOP-_

“Fucking- Dan, c’mon! Do you want to get arrested?” At that, he finally tore his eyes from the scene of chaos to see Phil, panicked eyes glowing in the light of the fire. The set of his jaw was locked with worry as he continued to pull Dan further from the building, but Dan shook his head, resisting.

“Wait- stop! We have to help them, they’re getting arrested- Phil!” Phil whipped around to face Dan as he tugged on his arm. “Dan, there’s nothing we can do for them now! We’ll be arrested too if we try to help- we have to go, _please.”_

Phil’s voice cracked with desperation on the last word, and it was that more than anything that finally forced Dan to turn his back on the rest of the resistance and run. They sprinted through the heart of London, dark alleys falling away on either side as the burning building got further and further away.

When the sirens were finally nothing more than a faint sound in the distance, they both slowed to a walk as they gasped for breath. Dan felt the adrenaline that had been filling his veins fade away, leaving only ice and exhaustion in its wake. He looked over at Phil, whose shoulders were tight with tension.

“Phil…what are we going to do?”

“I-I don’t know.”

 

“Breaking news: a group of dangerous rebels associated with magickind were apprehended in central London late last night after attempting to burn down City Hall. Reports say only the building’s left wing was damaged, but all the records in the archives were lost. However, there have been three deaths, all of them night guards who were caught in the fire.”

“Police showed up at the scene after being alerted by passerby who saw the burning building and managed to arrest most of the criminals. A few escaped and are still at large, unfortunately. In light of this recent tragedy, all persons associated with magickind are now considered threats to public safety and may be taken into custody for questioning if they are found in London.”

Dan stared at the clock ticking away over the stove, letting the sound of the radio fade away in his ears as they moved on to other stories. 6:30 am- three hours since they had managed to get back home.

His fingers hadn’t stopped trembling since then.

_-threats to public safety-_

_-three deaths-_

“What have we done, Peri?” Dan whispered, as the little black cat peered up at him from his lap where she had been trying in vain to offer him some form of comfort. “How could we have been so stupid?” Three innocent people had died, countless members of the resistance arrested, and a building nearly burned to the ground…all for a stack of records and done in the name of “getting their attention.”

“I should have known this would turn out badly, the warnings were all there, I just-” a sob escaped from his mouth involuntarily. “I just wanted to do something _right_ for once.” Peri nuzzled her nose into his wrist worriedly as his eyes burned and his chest filled with cement. “I just wanted to be brave for once.”

_still just a weak little witch boy-_

 “I can’t stand this anymore, I have to go talk to Phil. We need to- fuck, I don’t know, prepare or something. Make sure no one suspects anything so we don’t get turned in, I guess.” Dan shook his head and got to his feet, dislodging Peri from his lap as he hastily swiped at his eyes.

He knew almost instinctually that Phil would be awake, too- sleep would not come easy to either of them for a while. Jogging down the stairs, he turned to the coat rack to grab a jacket when he saw it- the resistance jacket, sigil still blood-bright on the back from where it lay beside the door.

_“…a group of dangerous rebels…”_

Swallowing hard, Dan grabbed the jacket and stuffed it deep inside his closet- he would find a better hiding place for it later, but for him to leave it out like this would be just asking for trouble. He noticed that his fingers were trembling worse than ever, and shoved them deep into his pockets to hide it.

Stepping out into the cold morning air, Dan was immediately distracted by ear-deafening sound of several ravens crowing above the awning of his shop. _Seriously, fucking again?_ He twisted around to glare at the birds, before facing forward- only to smack straight into a wall of fabric.

Dan spluttered, taking a step back and tipping his head up to see- Phil, rubbing his chest and pouting. “Ow, Dan, that really hurt.” Dan laughed in spite of himself at how clumsy they both were. “Phil, what is wrong with us?” Phil laughed, catching Dan’s eyes before grinning at him. “Do you remember…?”

Dan nodded, “Of course- we met for the first time exactly like this…with the addition of that monster of a plant.” Phil smiled at the memory, “She’s still somewhere around the shop, no doubt still traumatized from you knocking her out of my arms.” The memory warmed them for a second more, before-

Before everything that had happened since that innocent first meeting so long ago came crashing down upon them. Dan’s gaze fell to the ground as he sighed. “I was coming to talk to you, Phil- did you hear?” He looked up to see Phil cross his arms and look off into the distance before answering.

“That if anyone finds out we’re witches, we’ll get arrested? Yeah, I caught that. That’s why I was coming over to talk to you, too.” Dan’s fingers were trembling again. “Phil, what are we going to do?” Phil reached out and took hold of Dan’s arm, “C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s not safe out here anymore.”

Dan followed Phil back into his shop, letting himself slide down the wall into a sitting position as Phil disappeared to make coffee. He stared at the clusters of plants stuffed into every available space in the shop, their presence soothing on his frayed nerves. _Just stay calm, it’ll be fine-_

Phil pressed a mug of coffee into Dan’s still slightly trembling hands before sitting down next to him. “Do you know if anyone else has been arrested yet?” Dan ventured, his voice embarrassingly shaky in the quiet of the shop. Phil shook his head, “Not that I’ve heard. I bet they’ve been pretty busy with…all the people they arrested last night.”

Dan took a tentative sip of the coffee, “Right, that makes sense. So that gives us time to prepare, then…until they really start looking for the others- for us.” Phil nodded, “Yeah, I bet we have until tomorrow at least- we’ll just do the same thing we did when they were coming around for the witch registry. Hide all the magic stuff in our shops, that is. Your remedies will be fine- it takes months to test if they have magic in them so they most likely won’t check those for proof.”

Dan made a noise of affirmation as he looked out the window, where the city had woken up and was starting its morning. “We should start today, just in case,” Phil remarked from beside him, and Dan nodded, his focus slipping away from Phil as his gaze remained on the window. There were whispers in the streets again, and- the ravens were still there. In fact-

There were more ravens than perhaps ever before.

He had almost forgotten about their appearance months ago, their presence fading to the corners of his mind ever since…well, since everything that had happened over the past few months. They had been a warning back then, he knew. Of the resistance, of the witch registry, of Phil- he didn’t know.

Ravens are symbols of changes to come, after all ( _and sometimes, they are symbols of-)._ Except… were they a warning now? _What if-_ “Are you okay?”

Concern was evident in Phil’s voice, and Dan turned to face him, pasting on a smile in hopes of reassuring him. “I’m fine, Phil. It’s like you said- we’ll prepare just like we did for the witch registry.” Phil frowned but didn’t press the issue, and so Dan let whispers and warnings swirl in his head until it was time to begin the day’s work of hiding secrets.

Walking back to his shop, Dan frowned as he looked around at the street. Whispers were stirring in the leaves as ravens cawed overhead, and the clouds looked oddly like omens of… _don’t think about it don’t think-_ Dan ducked into his shop, fear beginning to slot into place along the vertebrae of his spine.

_Just stay calm, Howell. You’re overreacting._

Under the watchful green gaze of Peri, Dan managed to distract himself for most of the day as he levitated spell books, crystals, and inscribers up into his apartment. The distinct feeling of _wrongwrongwrong_ inside him didn’t leave, however, and the ravens only cawed ever louder outside as the day waned on.

He had just finished and was thinking about getting Phil to help him mark the hiding rune onto the door to his apartment, when suddenly- the door flew open, revealing a breathless Phil on the other side. Dan cocked an eyebrow, “How many times have you done that, really-” “Dan.” Phil cut him off with one word, and Dan was left gaping.

He had never heard Phil sound so- so _scared._

Fear was a whipping up a hurricane in Phil’s eyes and Dan could only stare in shock as he locked the door behind him and ran across the room, dragging Dan towards the stairs. Finally regaining use of his tongue, he spluttered, “Phil- what- what’s happening?”

Phil tugged Dan after him as he ran up the stairs to the apartment, ignoring his protests until they were both inside. He whipped around and gripped Dan by his shoulders- twin hurricanes of fear in blue eyes- before drawing in a breath. “Dan- somebody knows. They know you’re a witch.”

“They’re coming for you.”

Dan shook his head in disbelief- _no no no this can’t be true no-_ “How do you know?” Phil released him and started pacing around the apartment. “Got a tip from another guy in the resistance- one of the only ones left. I don’t- I don’t know how he knows, but Dan. Dan, we have to- _fucking hell.”_

Phil ran both hands through his dark hair, making it stick out wildly. “I don’t know what to do- we have to hide you somehow. Fuck!” Dan had never seen Phil so panicked, and it was scaring him even more than- _don’t think about it._

“Phil, calm down, please,” he pleaded, but Phil kept pacing and muttering, until Dan stepped in front of him. Maybe it was the fact that he was probably going to get arrested tonight, or that seeing Phil like this was making something twist in his chest, but-

Dan wrapped his arms around Phil, hugging him tightly. After a moment of surprise, he felt Phil’s arms wrap around him, and he breathed in deeply as Phil’s scent washed over him comfortingly. “It’ll be okay, Phil,” he whispered, and desperately wished he wasn’t lying.

The ravens kept cawing.

_Fourteen years ago-_

Dan felt a strange sense of calm seep over him. Destiny was finally catching up to him.

_Weaklittlewitchboy Dan will end up just like his parents-_

“How can you say that?” Phil responded, desperation dripping from his words. _This is how it’s meant to be- history repeats itself- you can’t run from fate-_ “I just know, idiot.” He tipped his head back to smile at Phil, who looked back at him with fear carved into the lines of his face. “My mother was a diviner, remember? I know these things.”

Knocking sounded on the door downstairs, and Dan knew it was them even before they heard the shout of, “Open up! It’s the police!” Phil’s head snapped up, “Fuck _fuck_ okay maybe we can hide you in the closet and I’ll do another hiding rune, and-” “Phil.”

Dan reached up and held Phil’s head still between his hands. His fingers were trembling again. “If they find you here, they’ll arrest you along with me,” he said matter-of-factly. Phil’s eyes bored into Dan’s. “I’m not leaving you here, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Phil responded furiously. “There’s no way out anyway.”

Dan shook his head, “Just hide up here, and I’ll- I’ll go down and deal with them, okay? They won’t suspect you’re here.” Phil jerked away from Dan, the hurricane of fear in his eyes turning distinctly fiery with anger. “Hide up here while you get arrested, you mean. Yeah, no fucking way. How-how can you even suggest that?”

Dan stepped forward, eyes pleading. “Please, Phil- it’s the only way.” The knocking sounded again, louder this time- “Open up!” Phil shook his head, “I’m not leaving you, Dan. Never.” Dan closed his eyes, willing back tears.

He had no choice.

“Okay, fine, just…Phil, can you- please? Before-?” He held out his arms tentatively, peering up at Phil uncertainly. Phil’s gaze softened and he walked back to Dan, wrapping him up in his arms- so gently- _as if he were made of glass._ It felt like home, because- _Phil was home._

Dan sucked in a breath-   _am I really about to do this oh god-_ and ever so carefully, he reached up and traced a rune into Phil’s back, letting magic of a power that he had never felt before race through his veins and into the rune as fast as possible. “Dan, what-”

Phil’s voice cut off, and Dan held back a sob. With shaking limbs, he backed out of Phil’s embrace and looked into the blue eyes he loved so much. Dan had just traced a rune for immobility into Phil- he wouldn’t be able to move for at least an hour.

Dan held back another sob, forcing steel into his veins. _He had to do it._ History may repeat itself, but at least Phil would be safe- and that was all that really mattered. The knocking downstairs had turned into banging, the windows rattling as the door threatened to give way.

He looked back at Phil- summer sky eyes and a smile full of light and a heart that was too golden for Dan to ever think of touching- and felt a tear slide down his cheek. This was probably the last time he would ever see Phil.

It was for the best anyway- Phil was too beautiful a creature for this dusty shop and its hollow-boned, cowardly little witch.

Except Dan couldn’t quite make his feet move just yet. He had to- _I will never see him again-_ he had to- _he had to-_ desperation and months of too-close-but-not-close-enough were rising in his chest, and so Dan took two tiny steps forward, until he was standing right in front of Phil.

“If you don’t open up, we will break this bloody door down!”

The blood was rushing through his veins and his destiny was a chain around his wrists and tears were flowing down his cheeks as Dan grasped two handfuls of Phil’s shirt. He let out a sob as Phil remained unmoving, frozen limbs that Dan selfishly wished were wrapped around his body.

“I’m sorry, Phil. I had to do this- they’re going to arrest me, and I’m-I’m going to go to prison, and I’ll probably…probably never see you again-” his sentence ended in a sob, but he forced himself to keep going. “But- I need you to know-”

“You were the best thing that has ever happened to me. You knocked into me on the street that morning and became my goddamn world, you know that? My goddamn world. Loving you…loving you was the best thing that I have ever been able to do.”

He looked up at Phil, whose face was still frozen, showing no reaction. “I love you, Phil, please- _please-_ ” and Dan didn’t even know what he was pleading for at this point as he sobbed into Phil’s unmoving chest. A bang sounded throughout the house as the door finally gave way, and Dan stared hard at Phil’s face, trying to memorize porcelain features through his tears.

_Please- just a few seconds more-please-_

And then there were footsteps in the shop and there was no time anymore and something that had been in burning deep within him for months burst into flames. So, with fingers trembling and heart beating right out of his chest, Dan leaned forward and- _oh god-_ and he brushed his lips against Phil’s.

And for one, heart wrenching second, he could pretend that Phil was responding- that Dan would pull away and Phil would grin at him with eyes full of sky and love love _love-_

_-_ but Phil remained cold and still, frozen to the touch.

And with that, Dan Howell turned away from his first and last love, and walked downstairs to meet his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would like to add that I got the idea for that last scene from a super old Harry Potter fic that I don't even remember the name of...but I feel bad not leaving any credit at all so yeah...there


	23. The Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for how long this update took...this has been the busiest month of my life so far, but hey- at least it's over. Enjoy this short ass chapter (:

His fingers were trembling again.

Dan noted this from afar as he walked down the stairs slowly, almost as if he were removed from his body. He felt- _numb_. He felt like- like a puppet made from glass bones and ice instead of blood in his veins, taking perfect little puppet steps down the stairs towards his fate.

_Fourteen years fourteen years fourteen years ago and now-_

_And now-_

_I love y-_

He rounded the bottom of the staircase, only to be met with the sight of two policemen walking towards him with faces made from steel, and- “Hello, Daniel.” _What-?_

Dan reeled back in confusion, brows furrowed as all the feeling rushed back into his body- pushed there from utmost surprise. A distinctly mousy-looking lady was standing in front of him, her glasses making her eyes look bug-eyed, and her thin hair wispy around her ears, and- “What are you doing here?” Dan blurted.

She was one of his customers, he remembered her- overly apprehensive of his remedies but seemingly harmless otherwise. Except now- now her eyes were alight with a darkness Dan had never remembered seeing in her before, and she was almost unrecognizable with how much her demeanor had changed. _What the hell was going on?_

Ignoring his question at first, she turned to the policemen and gestured at him angrily. “Well, what are you waiting for? He’s dangerous, you know! May not look it, but his kind always have a few nasty tricks up their sleeve.” The two policemen nodded and grabbed Dan by each of his arms in an iron grip.

She watched, a smirk unfurling on her thin lips, as Dan allowed himself to be handcuffed, still staring at her in confusion. He had expected for police to be there, had expected to be handcuffed, had expected to be arrested- but _what the hell is she doing here?_

“You seem confused, Daniel,” she remarked, smirk still in place on her lips. Dan shook his head, “I- I don’t understand- why are you here?” She walked closer to him once she was sure the policemen had secured him enough, smirk falling from her mouth as her eyes turned deadly.

“I am here because I am the one who turned you in.”

Dan felt his mouth fall open slightly in shock as he stared at her, eyes wide. “How- how did you-?” he stuttered. The mirth returned to her face as she gestured around at his shop, the nervous tics and frightened movements of their previous encounters long gone. “Why, don’t you remember? You handed the proof right to me in those silly little potions I bought from you.”

She leaned in, black eyes filled with hatred as she stared at Dan. “It was too easy. All I had to do was get them tested for magic by a couple…friends on the black market. Both times, the tests came back positive. You were selling me bottles filled to the brim with your dirty _magic_.” She spat the last word in his face before backing away once more.

She laughed a little, the sound making his stomach turn. “Nervous little old lady…so unassuming and unintimidating…no one ever really expects anything of you. It was so easy to walk in and buy your potions, all without raising any kind of suspicion.” She turned and a slow smile spread over her lips.

“Not like you were particularly smart to begin with, anyway.”

Dan fought for breath as panic clawed its way through his chest. _How could I have been so stupid?_ He let his head drop to the floor, vision blurring as he struggled to stay calm. So they had proof of his guilt, then. There would be nothing that could save him now.

_I’m not leaving you, Dan. Never-_

_-I have to do this._

At least Phil is safe, Dan reminded himself. _He is safe he is safe he is-_ he took a shaky breath and raised his head to meet the eyes of the person who had managed to rip away the little snatch of peace Dan had cupped so carefully in his palms for as long as he could.

He meant to say something cutting, something smart and sarcastic, but- “Why?” was all that came out of his mouth. “Are you part of some hate group or something?” She laughed in response, the cold, humorless sound of it too loud in the empty shop.

“Hate group? Oh, no. No, I am here because of what your parents-” she swooped in front of him suddenly, eyes burning black and pain etched harshly into every crevice of her face, “-did to my family.” Dan had never been more confused in his life. “My parents-?”

“They tore our family apart,” she replied, voice trembling with hatred and grief. “They took my sister away from us- and there has not been a single day since then that I have not wished your parents had just minded their own goddamn business and never started that- that _goddamn resistance group.”_

Dan just gaped at her, “Your-your sister?” She stood upright once more, eyes flicking around the shop as she seemed to retreat inside her memories. “She…she had some magical tendencies…but they would have been easily suppressed, if only- if only my parents had beaten it out of her. But- they were soft, and spoiled her, and thought it would go away with time.”

“It didn’t,” she shook her head. “It didn’t, and instead-it got worse and she became more and more distant over the years, until…one day, she was simply gone. We looked for her for months, until finally- I saw her at one of the protests in the streets, staged by the resistance back then.”

She stopped suddenly, memories tangible around her pain-stricken form as she stood in front of Dan. “There she was, yelling filth right alongside the…Howells. Your bastard parents.” Dan gulped, already beginning to feel a trickle of fear along his spine as she continued. “They took her away from me!”

She pressed her lips together and her gaze fell back on Dan, scalding him alive with the pure hatred he felt in her black gaze. “They took her away from me, and when they were arrested, she was arrested too. And do you know what happened to her after that?”

Dan slowly shook his head as she leaned in ever closer, eyes locked on his. “She died in her cell, just like your parents. Begging for mercy as she died alone- and it is all your parents’ fault. And now- it is only right that the son bears the sins of his father- and his mother.”

She leaned back, triumph gleaming in her eyes. “I never forgave them- and I never will. Your parents were smart, though- it took me years to even find out about your existence, let alone find you. But I never stopped looking. And now, now you will the pay for every wasted drop of my sister’s blood.”

Silence fell over the shop, as the witch stared at the human before him. Dan took a deep breath as fear and panic and the beginnings of anger roiled inside him. “I’m sorry that your sister died. But that isn’t my parents’ fault- and neither is it mine. My parents were good people,” he finished fiercely. She reeled back, anger flaring to life in her eyes as she drew her hand back, and-

_Smack!_

“Shit-!” Dan gasped as the sting of her sudden slap burned on his cheek. He felt a drop of blood trail down his cheek- no doubt her nails had cut his skin. “They were not good people, you insolent boy,” she hissed. “They were murderers who got what they deserved, and now you will too.” Dan growled, “Don’t you dare talk about them like that-”

“Take him away,” she cut him off as she turned away, gesturing to the policemen. Dan let himself be pushed to the door, stumbling under the harsh, bruising grip of the policemen. “Oh, and Daniel?” she called out just as they reached the door. “Be sure to be a good little boy in jail. Wouldn’t want your dear friend to have his shop searched, right?”

_No not Phil not Phil anything but Phil nononono-_

Dan’s mind went blank with fear as he twisted around, fighting against the policemen. “Don’t you dare touch him! He is completely innocent! Don’t you dare-” “Shut up,” the policemen to his right said as he cut him off with a kick to his calf as they pushed Dan outside.

He nearly fell to the ground as they continued to shove him towards the police car. Just before they forced him inside, Dan caught a glimpse of his face in the rearview mirror. A long, fiery red cut snaked along his cheekbone, dripping crimson blood down his cheek in stark contrast to his pale skin.

It was only a symbol of what was to come.

 

“Hey!” Dan cried out in protest as the prison guard threw him into the cell, his body landing on the cold, unforgiving ground. Ignoring him, the guard started to turn away, before Dan stopped him. “Wait, please! Aren’t- aren’t I going to get questioned or anything?”

The guard scoffed, “Like we would waste time questioning you when we have irrefutable proof of your guilt already. Idiot…” And with that, the guard turned away and stalked down the hallway. Dan fell back against the wall of his cell, limbs shaky and mind racing with fear as he looked around.

He was alone in the tiny cell- _thank god-_ but hungry eyes seemed to view him from every surrounding cell as the other prisoners took notice of the new arrival. Unconsciously, he shrunk even further back against the wall, making himself even smaller in hope of appearing non-threatening.

After a few minutes, most of them got bored with staring at him and turned away. There were a couple prisoners, though, who kept looking at him…their gaze was unwavering on his shaking body for several more minutes until they finally looked away, and Dan allowed himself to breathe once more.

His fingers were still trembling.

He tucked the sleeves of the prison uniform they had put on him over his shaking fingers and wrapped his arms around himself, drawing his knees up to his chest. The familiar position took him all the way back to the dark nights spent alone in his uncle’s shop.

Right now, that same gaping fear and pain was threatening to blacken his senses, turning his blood to ice and his lungs to stone, and- _god, he missed Phil so much-_

Dan shuddered and huddled closer to his knees, trying desperately to regain control over his emotions before he did something incredibly stupid like cause it to snow right in the cell. He couldn’t let any of the other prisoners know what he was, or else-

They might react to him the same way those prisoners from over a decade ago had reacted to his parents.

Clangs sounded from somewhere deep in the prison as the murmur of other prisoners talking to each other filled the space with background noise. Dan let his head drop forward onto his knees and tried to keep himself from thinking about Phil unfreezing in his shop and walking downstairs to find him gone.

_I’m not leaving you, Dan-_

_I love you, Phil, please-_

It was for the best.

He sighed and let his eyes trail over the rest of his cell- gray cinderblock walls, a mattress on metal rails for a bed, and a rusty toilet. _Lovely_. Dan sighed again and clenched his eyes shut. This was his new life now. Might as well get used to it.

_loving you was the best thing that I have ever been able to do-_

_-history repeats itself._


	24. The Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it was August and you were just going to write a lighthearted fic about phan as witches but now it's nine months later and you've written 50k words of pure angst and you're still not done...why am I like this (BUT it's actually almost done!!)  
> and disclaimer: this chapter is hella angsty, even for me...be warned

A bowl of grayish broth full of softly bobbing brown chunks, a brick of dark bread, and a cup of murky tea- all on a dented plastic tray.

Dan looked down at the food for a few seconds before pushing it away, bile rising in his throat. The very sight of it made his stomach roil, and he sighed shakily before folding his hands in his lap carefully. The bones of his wrists seemed to stick out just a bit more than usual, which- well.

He hasn’t been able to eat much since he got here. A constant companion of fear twisted his stomach into hard knots that never seemed to really untie, and it wasn’t like the food was particularly appetizing to begin with. Dan rubbed the protruding bones in his wrists absentmindedly as he looked around.

The noise of the dining hall was almost deafening as prisoners all around him shoveled food in their mouths while talking loudly with each other, sometimes laughing or yelling. Waves of sound poured over Dan as the harsh overhead lights burned into his retinas, and he felt his fingers begin to tremble again.

_Breathe, Howell._

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Dan had only been in here for a few days- a tiny portion of god knows how many more that awaited him. He couldn’t let himself get worked up over the goddamn dining hall just a few days in.

Dan turned his attention to the tea- the only thing he had been able to stomach lately- and sipped it hesitantly. It was obviously of low quality and tasted slightly of the metal cup that held it- but it was tea nonetheless.

Unbidden, an image of Phil- bloody nose and tousled black hair and blue eyes wide as he tried Dan’s tea for the very first time- rose to his mind’s eye. Dan nearly doubled over as a wave of pain rushed through him at the memory. _No no no don’t think about him not him don’t think-_

_Don’t think don’t think don’t think-_

“Fairy boy.” The muttered words were followed with an elbow that dug into his back from behind, shoving Dan forward into the hard edge of the table. He gasped out loud, but the elbow was gone as quickly as it had come. Dan whipped around to see the retreating back of another prisoner walk away from him, broad shoulders straining under the prison uniform.

Rubbing his ribs where they had been shoved into the table, Dan scowled at the table. This had been happening more and more lately- little…incidents where he was hurt here and there. Not a lot, just a bit of pain- but they were increasing in frequency.

He didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

 

Nights were spent staring at the ceiling of his cell, cracks in the stone spider webbing across his line of vision until the early hours of the morning. He was afraid to fall asleep ever since he had woken up from a particularly bad nightmare to a dusting of snow in his hair.

Luckily, it had been early enough that no one else had noticed- but he couldn’t take that risk again. Dan was surrounded on three sides by other cells, most of which had a direct view right into his own cell. And waking up with a bunch of snow in your cell?

That would be a dead giveaway that he was a witch.

So that left him with this- sleepless nights and cracked ceilings and an ache deep in his bones that never quite went away. Even so…it had been six days and he had gotten all of three hours of sleep in that time and- Dan wasn’t sure he was strong enough to make it through another sleepless night.

He was so goddamn _tired_.

_Wake up-_

Dan rubbed his eyes, blinking hard and forcing himself back to alertness. He had to stay awake if he wanted to keep his magic a secret- there was no control when he was asleep. Even still, his eyelids felt so heavy, and his head pounded with exhaustion, and his limbs felt as though they were sinking into the mattress, and- _so goddamn tired-_

_Wake up wake up wa-_

 

“I love you, Phil, please- _please-_ ” and Dan didn’t even know what he was pleading for at this point as he sobbed into Phil’s unmoving chest. A bang sounded throughout the house as the door finally gave way, and Dan began to pull away when suddenly-

The chest under his hands rose and fell in a breath and Dan backed away in shock, eyes lifting to meet blue blue _blue_ \- alive and awake and…Phil wasn’t frozen after all. He was breathing and moving and _oh fuck Dan had just confessed his love to him-_

Phil was smiling.

“Dan…C’mon, use your brain for a second here. You and me? That’s a goddamn joke- and you know it. You think I want some insecure little orphan with mommy _and_ daddy issues? Funniest goddamn joke I’ve ever heard.”

Phil was smiling and it was a knife shoved hard right into Dan’s chest, twisting deep into his organs and pain unlike he had ever felt before was racing through his bloodstream and _oh god oh god please make it stop MAKE IT STOP-_

Dan stepped back in shock, mouth open as he tried and failed to form words, the agony rushing through him too much for his mind to comprehend fully. He hadn’t expected to Phil to return his feelings, but- this - _this-_ this was far crueler than he could have ever predicted.

Phil was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual eyes-crinkled, tongue-peeking-out, snatch-of-sun smile. It was infinitely darker, colder- enough to send a shiver down Dan’s spine.  “Have fun rotting away in prison, just like your dead parents in their graves,” Phil said wickedly, eyes the color of black ice.

The black ice that cars skid on in the winter, tires slipping and spinning and vehicle careening off into the dark oblivion- the black ice that is winter’s bloody revenge, taken brutally and without mercy- _the black ice that you never, ever see coming until it’s far too late_ -

And then there were police bursting through the door and hauling Dan up by both arms and the room was blurring into smears of blues and browns and reds- but Phil’s face remained the only thing in focus. He was impassive as they dragged a screaming Dan out of the room, only turning when they reached the doorway to say-

“I could never love someone as broken as you, Dan.”

_WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE U-_

Dan shot upright, heart beating out of his chest and teeth chattering. His entire body was shaking like a leaf, covered in…snow. A thick white blanket of snow was laid across his entire form, and- Dan froze. _Please let no one have seen it please-_

He raised his head slowly, only to meet dozens of pairs of hungry eyes staring right back at him.

“Well fuck me, looks like little fairy boy is actually a goddamn fairy- makes fucking snow and everything.”

_Fuck._

 

Dad had gotten used to the taste of blood in his mouth.

Metallic crimson on his tongue, bluegreenpurple bruises on his skin, knife-sharp cold penetrating down to the very marrow of his bones- Dan had gotten used to all of it. He had expected it, really. And besides- it wasn’t like he could do much about it.

Nothing much to be done for little boys locked up tight in little cells, shuttled down the path of fate to their destinies. Nothing much to be done at all.

Unfortunately, knowing just how hopeless his situation really was didn’t do much to comfort Dan when he lay bleeding on the ground of his cell after yet another “friendly brawl” with the other prisoners. The prison guards just looked away when those little scuffles broke out- especially if it involved a witch such as himself.

Ever since the rest of the prisoners had found out he was a witch, he had become the resident punching bag for the rest of the general prison population. Even worse, the other resistance members he had hoped to see here were all kept in a separate part of the prison from his section- no doubt to discourage organized resistance in the prison.

It simply meant that he had no protectors, here. Nothing but his own bruised limbs and trembling fists.

Dan pressed his lips together, muffling a groan, and forced his aching limbs to move. He would feel even worse in the morning if he lay on the stone cold ground of his cell all night- yet another lesson he had learned the hard way during his time in prison.

Dragging himself upright, he managed to walk a few shaky steps to his bed and collapse upon the hard mattress, his entire body screaming in pain. It had been worse than usual tonight- and right on the back of another beating three days ago. He was starting to wonder when- when it would become too much for him to bear anymore.

Dan shut his eyes tightly, trying desperately to stave off tears, and curled up on the cold, hard mattress. _God,_ he missed Phil so much- it was like a physical wound, constant in its cruel stabs of memory that left him breathless from pain. The remnants of that godawful dream hadn’t yet left him either.

He kept seeing Phil’s eyes in his mind, full of black ice as he opened his mouth to rip into Dan’s soul with a few little words. Over and over and over again- an endless loop of pain.

_I could never love someone as broken as you-_

It was the worst kind of hell.

Dan’s eyes drew up to the ceiling, where he stared at the cracks there that had imprinted themselves on the back of his eyelids for how much he looked at them. How long could he survive this? They hadn’t even questioned him yet, but he knew it was coming.

And with questioning, came torture- he was sure of it. It would only get worse from here, then. He wondered idly whether or not he would be able to withstand the torture. Would the weak little witch boy break before his parents had?

Probably.

Dan let a dark chuckle at this. He had ended up just where he had always known deep down he would- following right in the footsteps of his sweet, brave, dead parents.

The Howells sure had one hell of a family legacy.

A tear slipped down his cheek without warning, and Dan felt the breath hitch in his throat. Swallowing hard, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter against the threatening wave of tears. If the other prisoners heard him crying in his cell, it would only make them torture him more.

He couldn’t give in.

Letting out a shuddering breath that racked his thin frame, Dan cast his mind back to his sun-filled bedroom above the shop- sheets soft and warm, and Peri curled up beside him. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, it would feel like he was there once more.

And so, holding that image of warmth firmly in his mind, prisoner number 30245 slipped away into the numbing oblivion of sleep.

 


	25. The Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I subconsciously dragging this story out because I don’t know how to end it? (probably.)   
> also TW for physical violence I guess...it's just more than usual so I wanted to be safe

There was a one-way mirror in the interrogation room.

Dan could see himself, reflected in the murky glass. He hadn’t been able to recognize his face, at first. Bruise-marred skin was stretched thin over sharply protruding bones, his eyes hooded and sunken into his skull from lack of sleep. A tattered shadow of a person.

And his hair- _god._ It was a mess of wild curls, as he’d given up on trying to comb it ages ago. He’d stopped seeing the point in it- had stopped seeing the point in most things, really. He turned away from his reflection, unsettled by the image of that other Dan- one with hunted eyes and pain smeared into the cracks of his skin.

“Mr. Howell.”

Dan had come to hate that voice. Never without a hint of condescension, never without the warning of pain soon to come, never offering a hint of hope, never- “Mr. Howell, look at me.” Dan felt a shaky sigh rattle in his lungs as he turned back to the pale, long face in front of him.

Riley, as he had introduced himself four weeks ago. Rat-like features, unsmiling lips, and long white fingers that loved to blush dark red after they were slapped across Dan’s cheek over and over again. He was Dan’s bi-weekly interrogator.

Just like the past seven sessions, Riley only began when Dan was looking directly at him. “So- how have you been?” It took a lot for Dan to keep himself from rolling his eyes, but he gave a noncommittal shrug. Riley narrowed his eyes at him before sighing. “…I’m fine, thank you for asking. Been getting colder, hasn’t it?”

Dan hated this pointless pre-interrogation chatter. As if, four weeks in, he was suddenly going to start bonding with Riley Ratface over the fucking weather. _Yeah fucking right._

Dan stuck to another noncommittal shrug. He worked inside the prison laundry room all day and stayed in his cell at night, when the hell would he notice the weather outside? Riley sighed again and took a sip from his coffee mug. “You know, you could make things a lot easier for yourself if you would just tell us what we need to know.”

Dan glared at him. _Evilstupidratface- “_ You’re not in here for a serious crime, Daniel. Your sentence could be lessened dramatically if you would just help us out.” Dan was still glaring at him. Riley sighed again, but he sat up straighter- almost as if in anticipation- before looking down at his notes. _Sadist._

“Alright, so that’s how it’s gonna be. So, Daniel Howell- are you part of the resistance?” Dan let his eyes drop to the floor, and- _CRACK!-_ Riley slammed his palm onto the surface of the table. “Look. At. Me.” Dan slid his eyes up to Riley’s- a dusty blue that had made him want to cry when he saw them for the first time.

Riley’s eyes reminded him of Phil’s.

He _hated_ associating Phil with the monster in front of him, _hated_ tainting his memories of Phil’s soft sky eyes, _hated_ when Riley looked at him and Dan could only see Phil’s eyes staring back at him, full of revulsion.

It felt like a cruel trick played by the universe- to be beaten while staring into the eyes of the one he loved.

“Answer me, Howell.” Riley was starting to get angry- he always started using Dan’s last name when he was angry. Dan twisted his fingers together and stared straight into too-blue eyes. “There is no resistance,” he answered finally. Riley frowned, “You’re really persisting with this idiotic lie? Fine- then who caused the fire in the city hall?”

Dan kept his voice steady, gaze steadier- “I don’t know- it could have been an accident. Maybe one of the guards.” Riley gritted his teeth, “One more chance, Howell. Answer me with the truth this time- do you know anyone else with magical abilities?” Dan twisted his fingers tighter, but his gaze remained on Riley. “No, I don’t know anyone else with magical abilities.”

_CRACK!-_ Riley slammed his other hand onto the table. “And there goes your last chance. I’m sick of these lies, Howell.” In one fluid movement, he stood up and walked past the table in between them to stand in front of where Dan was sitting. Bending down, he stared right into Dan’s eyes from an inch away.

_Blueblueblue- stop STOP STOP IT_

“Don’t make me ask again.” Dan could only shake his head, eyes slipping closed as his breathing turned shaky. _SMACK!_ This time, Riley’s hand slapped Dan’s cheek, his head whipping to the side from the force of the hit. Dan’s breathing hitched, but he pressed his lips together to keep from crying out.

_Fuck, that hurt-_

Riley grinned slowly as Dan’s eyes hesitantly returned to his once more. “Now that didn’t feel good, did it?” he asked, condescension dripping from his words. “How about you answer me this time with something other than idiotic lies?” Dan did nothing but glare in response, his cheek burning with stinging pain.

“Alright, so that’s how it’s gonna be.”

In one dizzying motion, Riley grabbed the arms of Dan’s chair and swung it around from behind the table to face the wall. Dan fell back against the back of the chair, chained hands still wrapped around each other tightly. His chest rose in a shallow breath as he tried to ready himself- he knew what was coming next.

_THUD!_ A punch landed directly to his stomach knocked the wind right out of him, leaving Dan gasping for breath as Riley smiled down at him. “Still not talking? I can do this all day, you know.” _CRACK!_ A punch to his mouth- _THUD!_ Another punch to his gut- _CRACK!_ A kick to his shins- _SMACK!_ Another slap to his jaw- o _hgodpleaseplease-_

Dan struggled for air as tears cut wet paths down his cheeks, fiery bursts of pain lighting up all over his body as Riley continued to beat him. _I can’t do this I can’t someone help me-_ his mouth was full of blood- _someone help me please god-_ black spots were creeping into the edges of his vision- _anyone please-_

Riley yanked Dan upright in the chair by his collar, breathing harshly. Blueblueblue eyes, full of indifference to the blood that dribbled from Dan’s lips, burned in his immediate vision- “Who else do you know that has magical abilities?” _SMACK! -_ A hit to Dan’s already bleeding mouth. “Give me names, Howell!”

Blood swelled thickly in Dan’s mouth and seeped out when he tried to speak. “Don’t- don’t know anyone,” he managed to force out. “You’re really one stupid motherfucker, you know that?” Riley said, mouth still stretched in a grin. And so the beating resumed.

Except- Dan wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Blow after blow fell like thunder onto his shaking, thin frame. His vision faded as his mind swum with images of eyes the color of black ice and churning waves – _in a hurricane- I’m not leaving you- PLEASE-_

61 days.

73 days.

90 days.

104 days.

121 days.

138 days.

152 days.

Dan stared listlessly at the tiny scratched tallies he had made into side of the bedframe to mark the passage of time in this godforsaken hellhole.

_152 fucking days._

_Five fucking months._

An eternity whittled down into an endless string of days, each packaged into their little beads of time and each one harder to swallow than the last. Dan tipped his head back to stare at the cracked ceiling above. Longing to be out of this place -to be home- burned in his very bones.

 Longing for home was the only thing he really felt anymore- besides pain, of course. His two constants in the seemingly endless day to day cycle of beatings, interrogations, and work that made up his life in prison. It was a cycle that he wasn’t sure he could keep up for much longer.

Dan could feel himself slowly slipping away- his body growing thinner as bruises layered over each other and his mind teeming with jagged thoughts and half-dreams. It was getting to harder to differentiate his nightmares from reality- especially when his reality was so close to a nightmare already.

_How long can I go on like this?_

Nothing felt real anymore.

“Hey there, fairy boy.” A voice coated in sickening sugar curled through the air just outside of Dan’s open cell, the door to which would not lock for another hour until lights-out. _Please, no- not tonight- I can’t take this any longer-_ Dan could do nothing but shuffle backwards weakly.

“Ah-ah, don’t run from me, now, you little piece of dirt.” The cloying tone grew louder as two men moved into the cell, each with anticipation gleaming in their eyes as they took in Dan on the floor in front of them. The men were part of the usual group who loved to terrorize Dan- and they were in luck tonight.

“Please don’t,” Dan whispered, trying to get to his feet slowly. Smiles split each of the men’s faces as they drew closer. “Begging us, huh? Just like the dog you are,” the man to the left stated. “Not even human- just a freak,” the other sneered. Dan shook his head, his breathing growing shaky with fear.

“I’ll scream,” he warned as they got closer, but their only response was laughter. “Not like anyone would care if you did,” the man to the left chuckled. “But…for the sake of public peace- Johnny.” He gestured to Dan with a tip of his head, and Dan started to back away quickly- but not before the other man could grab him and slap his meaty palm over Dan’s mouth to keep him silent.

_Please let me out of this hell please god make it stop MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP-_

Dan closed his eyes and let the blows rain down on him like water.

 

Half an hour later, Dan wasn’t totally sure he was still alive. After twenty minutes of beating him to a pulp, his attackers left after one last punch that split open his lip yet again- leaving Dan to sink to the floor in a pile of bones and tattered skin.

_I can’t do this anymore._

Black creeped in around the edges of his vision, but Dan’s bloody lips cracked into a smile as he stared at the ceiling. “Hello, Mum,” he said softly. His mother smiled down at him, hair falling around her face as she reached out a hand to him - _myboymygoldenboy-_ “Mum, I’ve missed you… _so much_.”

She didn’t answer, still just smiling at him from above. “Mum, please stay with me- please.” And she did. Until-

Until she was gone. And Dan wasn’t in his cell anymore.

 There were waves all around him, churning violently and sucking him further and further and further down- and all of a sudden, he was drowning. Dark waves rose on all sides, pushing him deeper and deeper beneath the water- water that looked… _red…why does it look red why is it red why-_

_Oh god I can’t breathe ICANTBREATHE-_

 Dan was drowning in a sea of blood.

He gasped for air- blood in his hair, blood in his lungs, blood in his mouth- _ICANTBREATHE-_

_Bloody sigils-_

Until suddenly, there were strong hands pulling him from the depths of the bloody waves, towards the light- higher and higher until he broke the surface and opened his stinging eyes to the light. The sky was impossibly blue above him, the color of-

_-almost exactly the color of_ \- “Dan, oh god- please, _Dan!”_

Gentle hands ran all over his body, wrapping around his arms and brushing through his hair, and Dan smiled softly at their touch. _“_ Dan, _please-_ please stay with me- _”_ All of a sudden, summer sky eyes were above him, looking directly in Dan’s own.

Blueblueblue-

_Phil._

Another dream, then. Dan smiled softly at Phil, glad this seemed to be more of a dream than a nightmare. Phil wasn’t laughing at him in this one at least – _I could never love someone as broken as you-_ and his eyes were summersky instead of blackice, and- _god,_ he missed Phil.

“I wish you were real,” Dan whispered, and then his limbs were growing heavier and heavier as exhaustion set in. It consumed his body- so much so that he didn’t notice when the eyes above him furrowed in confusion before widening in fear.

  _“Dan!”_

Dan’s eyes were slipping closed, darkness surging up from the edges of his vision. “I wish you were real,” he whispered again, barely able to open his mouth as he began to tumble headfirst into black oblivion. “No- _no,_ stay with me!”

 

_I’m not leaving you-_

_You won’t lose me-_

_I love you I love you I love you I love you_

 


	26. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah...so I'm just gonna leave this here and run away

The first time Dan woke up, it was to nothing but darkness. His entire body felt numb- nothing more than a skeleton of glass.

Eventually, his senses came trickling back slowly- the warm weight of blankets covering his entire frame, light burning just behind his closed eyelids, and…voices.

“…Not sure how long he’ll be in this state…the trauma inflicted on his body, coupled with malnourishment…and who knows what his mental state is like…well, the others…” Soothing murmurs grew louder as Dan strained to pick out what they were saying. Were they talking about him?

“When will he wake up?”

_Wait-_

That was Phil’s voice- except it sounded utterly broken, desperation dripping off the edges of his words, and- _Phil oh god is it really him is he really here please-_

The murmurs sounded pitying as they answered Phil- “Not positive of a time frame…too much damage done to his head…never really know for sure…have hope…” Defeat coated Phil’s words as he thanked the murmurs, before Dan could hear the sound of the door closing.

A hand slipped into Dan’s in the same instant- warm and comforting and slightly bony and _undoubtedly_ Phil’s hand _._ Dan struggled to open his eyes, to move his fingers, but his body wouldn’t listen to him. His eyelids felt like fifty pound weights, and his muscles like jelly- but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Dan, I- I’m so sorry…this is all my fault. I’m sor-” Phil’s voice cracked with a sob, and the sound shattered Dan’s heart. “Please wake up, Dan… _please.”_ Every single nerve in Dan’s body ached to call out to him, to reach out a hand- _anything-_

_I’m here, Phil. I’m right here and I’ve missed you so much-_

But no matter how much he willed his muscles to move, Dan could do nothing but remain motionless on the bed- with the sound of Phil’s muffled, gasping sobs like slivers of jagged glass in his ears and Dan’s heart breaking just a little more with each one.

It wasn’t long before Dan could feel his mind slipping further and further into black oblivion, and –powerless to stop it– Dan felt himself fall headfirst into unconsciousness, still desperately trying to curl his fingers into Phil’s hand with every bit of his remaining strength.

_I’m here- I’m right here-_

 

The second time Dan woke up, it was to the sound of a crash.

This time, his senses came back to him all at once, and Dan furiously tried to move any of his muscles, but was met with resistance each time. Frustrated, he fought to open his eyelids- and this time, he succeeded-

-and immediately regretted it.

Harsh light burned his retinas mercilessly, and Dan squinted, trying to lessen the blinding sensation as white-hot bursts of pain sparked at his temples. Finally, his vision cleared enough that Dan was greeted with a view of a small, white room.

There was a chair next to his bed and a table next to that, littered with half-full bottles, crushed herbs, and crystals. In the middle of the room, a bottle lay shattered on the ground, with bright green liquid pooling around it. Dan’s eyes slid past that to the dark form kneeling beside the mess, their shoulders just barely shaking.

Black hair, pale skin, long limbs- even from the back, there was no doubt. _Phil._ Dan struggled to open his mouth and call out, but to no avail. Instead, he could only watch as Phil raised his head to look at the mess on the floor, his hands curling into fists on his knees.

For one long moment, he stayed on the floor, until- “Fuck,” Phil breathed out the curse before rising to his feet. Dan struggled again to call out to him, but all he could do was keep his eyes open as Phil turned towards the wall, his whole body visibly trembling. At first Dan thought he was crying, until-

Until he caught sight of his face, and- it was Phil alright, but Phil as he had never seen him before. His eyes were cut glass and his face was a mask of porcelain rage and his eyes were the blue that you see in the hottest of flames, and-

_-he’s angry._

Which didn’t make sense, because Phil _never_ got this angry. He got annoyed and frustrated and upset, sure- but never truly angry. It just wasn’t in his nature, and so Dan had never seen anger paint itself in angry crimson over Phil’s features- until now, that is.

Aching with confusion over Phil’s anger and the need to touch Phil, to feel his sky eyes on his skin, Dan tried valiantly to move any of his goddamn useless muscles- and managed to just slightly curl his pinkie finger. Encouraged, he tried again- and he was so focused on this that he almost missed it when-

“Fuck,” Phil repeated, louder this time- and out of nowhere, he was raising his fist and in one fluid motion, Phil punched the _fucking wall._

_No-_

“Fuck- fuck- fuck- _fuck!”_ Phil punctuated each curse with another punch to the wall, sickening cracks echoing throughout the room until spatters of blood were left behind in the places where his knuckles had smashed into the wall and his shoulders were shaking with uneven, shallow breaths.

_No nonononoNO please stop Phil please stop-_

Dan could do nothing but scream silently, desperately begging for Phil to stop the whole time in his mind. He redoubled his efforts to move, but could still do no more than curl his fingers slightly. _Fucking useless-_ Phil sunk to his knees, staring listlessly at his bloody hands.

“How could they?”

Phil’s whispered words were too loud in the silent room. He remained frozen on his knees for what felt like hours before rising to his feet and walking towards Dan, whose eyes were already beginning to slip closed-no matter how hard he tried to keep them open.

Too late, Phil sunk into the chair next to him- only for Dan’s eyes to fall closed, waves of exhaustion crashing through his body. “How could they have done this to you?” Phil whispered again, and Dan wanted to cry at the sound of the pain that drenched Phil’s words.

_I’m here I’m right here I’m okay-_

But he was already slipping further and further into the numbing darkness, the light of the small, white room fading as Phil’s final words resonated in the dark recesses of Dan’s mind.

 “Please come back to me, Dan.”

  
The third time Dan woke up, his eyes fluttered open right away.

 His gaze was immediately met with summersky eyes staring right back at him, blublueblue and _Phil_ and _I’m here, I’m right here_ and- _finally,_ the world clicked into place once more.

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but could only manage a shaky breath before gentle hands were running over his face and hair and hands, their touch like warm sunlight on his skin. “Dan- _Dan-_ oh thank god thank god-”

Phil whispered broken prayers of gratitude over and over again as he encircled Dan with his arms and brought him to his chest, pressing Dan’s head to the crook of his neck. Shaking fingers trailed through wild brown curls as Phil clutched him tighter in his arms, and Dan could do nothing but let the scent of earth and lemon and _Phil_ surround him.

“I was so scared- I’m so sorry- all my fault- _god, Dan-_ ” Dan hesitantly tried to speak and only managed to let out a slight whine before finally breathing out, “Phil…” The arms around him withdrew a bit, allowing Dan just far away enough that he and Phil could see each other’s faces.

Phil reached up and traced a gentle finger over a bruise on Dan’s cheek, his eyes churning with pain and guilt. “None of this is your fault, Phil,” Dan said quietly. “Please don’t feel guilty.” Phil closed his eyes tightly, the muscles in his jaw twitching with tension before he tightened his hand on Dan’s arm.

“How are you feeling?” he asked a moment later, opening his eyes to look at Dan with so much tenderness that it made Dan’s chest hurt. Deciding to not press the issue of Phil’s guilt for now, Dan gave him a small smile. “A lot better, actually. I couldn’t even open my eyes or move any of my muscles for the longest time.”

Phil nodded, “The healers said it was probably because of the combination of physical trauma and exhaustion. They thought you might be out for months, though, with how bad off you were.” Dan tilted his head questioningly, “Healers?”

Phil wrapped his hands around Dan’s, lowering his gaze to their intertwined fingers. “Yeah…we’re in a safe house set up by what’s left of the resistance. Some other resistance prisoners are here to recover, too.” Dan gaped a bit, suddenly remembering exactly why he had needed healing in the first place.

“Phil…how the hell did I get out of prison?” Phil gave him a tentative smile. “Well…a bunch of other resistance members were imprisoned as well, so me and a few other members managed to convince Ailith and the rest of the resistance that we had to break you guys out.”

“The strategy we came up with is slow and inefficient, but it’s worked so far. Mass breakouts are a lot harder to carry out unnoticed, so members train to go two at time and slip inside the prison as disguised guards- using persuasive magic, of course. From there, you just have to keep your head down until the late night- then it’s a hell of a lot of shadow magic to sneak to the cell of your designated prisoner.”

“I refused to be assigned to anyone else but you,” Phil admitted, and Dan looked up to see pink dusting the tops of his pale cheeks before he continued. “We were able to find pretty strong unlocking runes that we could use on the cells, and then it’s more shadow magic to smuggle the prisoners back out in empty storage boxes.”

Phil sighed, “It’s risky- and it requires a lot of luck, and a lot of strong magic. That’s why we can only do a couple prisoners at a time.” He looked at the wall, jaw tight with tension. “I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t get you out earlier, Dan.”

Unable to hold himself back, Dan reached out and pressed a hand to Phil’s cheek. “Hey- no more guilt, please. Thank you so much for getting me out of that hell.” Phil’s soft gaze returned to him, and Dan felt himself blush a bit- still unused to having Phil right in front of him after months of loss.

“I promised you that I would never leave you, Dan.” Phil’s words were spoken softly, but they reverberated in Dan’s ears as he drowned in blueblue _blue-_ and all of a sudden, Dan was back in the room above his shop, tears blurring his vision as he clutched at Phil’s frozen chest-

_I love you Phil, please-_

Right, so that had happened.

Dan ducked his head to stare at the bed, cheeks burning as the realization that this was the first time he had spoken to Phil since he had _literally_ _confessed his love for him._ God, what had he been thinking? What had Phil thought of him after that? What-

“Hey, Dan- look at me.”

A gentle hand tipped his chin upwards until brown met blue- _where the earth and sea touch-_ and then Phil was looking at Dan as if he were soaked honey and sunlight spun into a person, and he was touching Dan as if he were made of glass, and- “Dan, these past few months without you, knowing you were in prison, alone and in pain-”

Phil cut himself off, shaking his head as his hand slid down Dan’s neck to cup the side of his head carefully. His thumb gently carded through brown curls as Phil continued, “It was pure hell. I can’t- I can’t do that again- I can’t be without you. I was so scared for you- and I felt so goddamn guilty that you were fighting every imaginable demon while I sat here- fucking _useless-_ ”

Dan didn’t even realize he was starting to shake his head until Phil wove his fingers deeper into Dan’s curls to slow him down. “Let me finish, yeah? And when I saw you in that cell- _god,_ you looked…so small, and so broken…. And then the healers told me all that those… _bastards_ had done to you- and I was so fucking _useless-”_

_“_ I see your body on the floor of that cell every time I close my eyes, now.”

Phil was breathing harder, blue eyes smoldering as he held Dan tight with his gaze. “Was that why you punched the wall?” Dan asked before he could stop himself. Phil’s eyes widened for a moment, surprised, before he breathed out a chuckle. “You saw that?”

Dan nodded, and Phil shook his head. “That day…that was the day they detailed all your injuries to me for the first time- told me everything that had been done to you…and I just- _snapped.”_ Unable to take the guilt in Phil’s eyes, Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders, drawing them impossibly closer together.

“It’s okay- I’m okay now,” he whispered into Phil’s skin, and he could feel the shuddering breath Phil took in response as his arms came up to hold Dan tight against him. “You want to know what the worst part of this was?” he asked quietly.

Dan drew back to look into Phil’s eyes once more, head tilted questioningly. Phil smiled down at him, eyes full of sky and a heart full of light- and there were crashing waves of warmth rising ever higher in Dan’s chest-

_I’m okay- I’m here, I’m right here and I love y-_

“Looking into your eyes as you told me that you loved me- _and not being able to say it back.”_

The entire world felt suspended in time -a single moment encased in paper thin glass, too beautiful to shatter. “Because I do, Dan. I love you, and I- I couldn’t stand the thought of never being able to say that to you.”

Breeze ruffled Phil’s dark hair, tossing it across his forehead and tugging at Dan’s clothes as gusts of warm wind began to blow around them, tangling the bedsheets and twisting the curtains and growing stronger, and stronger-

“You’re my fucking world, Dan Howell. Do you know how terrifying that is? I love you so goddamn much that it scares me, sometimes.”

_I love you I love you I love you I love you a thousand times over-_

_-so goddamn much-_

Warmth exploded in Dan’s chest -honey melting his bones and happiness splitting open his ribcage in the best kind of pain- and he felt more like sunlight than person as he knocked his head forward to lean against Phil’s, a wide smile splitting his face.

The wind rushing around them grew stronger as Phil gripped Dan tightly against him, grinning as he pressed kiss after kiss to Dan’s curls. “Dan, your wind is going to push us right out the window if you keep this up,” Phil laughed.

Dan had barely noticed the strong gusts of his happiness bursting out of him in the best way he knew how- his magic. He leaned back to grin at Phil. “I can’t help it- I’ve never been this happy before.” Phil beamed at him before his eyes began to trace the features of Dan’s face carefully.

Ever so gently, Phil’s thumb came up to lightly run over Dan’s bottom lip- achingly slow. Dan stopped breathing as Phil’s other hand curled around the back of his neck, and summer sky eyes filled his vision as Phil leaned closer, and closer, and closer-

_-my fucking world-_

- _a thousand times over-_

_He loves me he loves me he loves me  
_


	27. The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it, my friends... 60k words later, and I've finally finished this beautiful mess of a story. I love you all so much- thank you for alternatively laughing and crying (mostly crying) with me along the way.

Dan’s limbs had turned to stone.

He stared in silence at the shop before him, windows dark and doorstep littered with leaves and crumpled newspapers. “Sorry I couldn’t keep up with it well enough,” Phil apologized softly beside Dan, who could only nod faintly in response.

His vocal cords seemed to have turned to stone as well.

Phil had barely let him go out today, still mindless with worry over Dan’s weak health. He was only consoled by Dan promising to dress as warmly as possible and have Phil near him at all times. Not that it mattered- Dan didn’t think he could do this without Phil by his side anyway.

Dan kept staring at the shop, memories teeming at the edges of the building before him and spilling into the street. He was deathly afraid of their creeping black tendrils, promising nothing but a repeat of so many years of grief.

And Dan was so, _so_ tired of grief.

He would have gladly stood there for another good three years, at least- but then Phil was slipping a reassuring hand into his and tugging him forward slightly. “C’mon, Dan- you can do this. I’ll be right there with you.” He turned to look back at Dan, sure and warm and hopelessly perfect-

So Dan took in one long, rattling breath… and stepped forward.

“Okay…okay,” he whispered, and took another step, and another- until he and Phil were standing directly in front of the door he had walked through countless times over the course of his life. Dan pushed open the unlocked door with trembling hands, ignoring the “Caution!” tape all over the window.

Phil tightened his grip on Dan’s hand as they both stepped inside and looked around, but Dan could barely feel it. All he could focus on was the sight of the shop- _his shop._ Broken glass crunched under their feet as they walked forwards to see shelves emptied of remedies, potted plants overturned, glass bottles spilled everywhere- devastation.

_They destroyed it- they destroyed my shop-_

_-they have taken everything from me-_

“Oh, Dan,” Phil breathed out shakily, blue eyes glowing with pain in the dim light. “ _God-_ I’m so sorry, love.”

_Well- not quite everything._

Dan swallowed around the glass in his throat and made a slow circle, taking all the destruction in. “I should’ve expected it, really,” he said finally, his voice trembling and too quiet. “There was no way they would leave a convicted witch’s shop untouched.”

“Still… you don’t deserve this- any of this,” Phil’s voice shook with emotion as he stepped closer to Dan, waves crashing in the ocean of his eyes. “I wish- I wish _so much_ that I could make the world better for you.” Dan reached up to lay a hand on Phil’s cheek, smiling at him even as he felt a tear slip down his cheek, his chest tight.

“You don’t have to fix the world for me, Phil. The fact that you’re here is enough,” he said firmly, his shattered heart stirring in his chest as Phil closed his eyes and leaned into Dan’s touch. “Always,” Phil whispered in response. “…Always.”

Dan let himself breathe with Phil for a moment more before drawing away and looking back at his shop, full of memories and broken glass. There wasn’t much else they could do- his shop was the scene of Dan’s arrest, and even this visit alone had been an overwhelming risk.

_Fourteen years ago_ and _history repeats itself_ and _weaklittlewitchboy_ and-

_Fourteen years ago-_

The Dan of fourteen years ago walked into the unfamiliar shop for the first time in his life, ten years old and both of his parents in prison. 

_Ten years ago-_

The Dan of ten years ago sobbed in the corner of the shop as snow swirled thick around his tiny frame, fourteen years old and an orphan.

_Four years ago-_

The Dan of four years ago entered the shop for the first time since his uncle’s death, twenty years old and entirely alone in the world.

_And now-_

The Dan of now closed his eyes against the memories choking the air as Phil stood beside him, twenty- four years old and desperately in love and finally, _finally-_ ready to be free of his past.

He turned to Phil and exhaled shakily, breathing out fourteen years of pain. “I- I think I’m ready to go.” Phil nodded and reached a hand up to stroke gently along Dan’s cheekbone, searching his eyes. “Home?” he asked softly, but Dan shook his head.

“Not yet…I need to go somewhere else first.”

It was time to visit his parents.

 

_Here lie-_

The world was hushed, suspended in time with a calm stillness that only a new-fallen snow could provide.

For once, the snow that blanketed the trees around them and sprinkled the dark, windblown strands of Phil’s hair was not caused by the churning turmoil of Dan’s dark emotions. For once, it had fallen pure and clean from the skies, dusting the world with promises of change.

Promises of new beginnings.

_Here lie-_

Phil’s hand wrapped itself tight and warm around Dan’s trembling fingers, an anchor in this too-cold world of snow and memories. Dan took a deep breath and let himself fall to his knees on the freezing earth, one hand curling into a fist by his side.

Dan’s other hand slipped from Phil’s to rest on the icy stone before him. Tears blurred the words carved into the granite, but the letters had burned themselves into his mind a long, long time ago.

Ten years ago, to be exact.

_Here lie James and Erica Howell, beloved father and mother._

_Died December 6, 2005_

A hot tear streaked down Dan’s cheek.

He bowed his head, clenching his fist tighter as the ice within his lungs began to splinter. A warm, heavy hand fell upon on his shoulder as Phil stepped closer, lending a source of silent comfort. Dan raised his head and stared hard at his parents’ names etched into the stone.

_The two greatest people in the world- our golden boy- fourteen years ago-_

_Ten years ago-_

Golden memories brimmed in his mind as Dan pressed his palms against the frozen earth where his parents were buried. This was the first time he had visited their grave since the funeral, where he had cried silently next to his uncle all throughout.

His mother’s laugh was echoing in his ears.

_I have to- I have to-_

His whole body trembling, Dan let out a shaky breath and spread his fingers wider on the ground, desperately trying to feel his parents among the dead grass and freezing snow. Phil’s hand was still on his shoulder- _I’m right here-_ and finally, Dan closed his eyes.

_I have to do this._

“Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad.” He stopped, breathed in once, and then- “I’ve missed talking to you…so much. I can’t believe it’s been ten years already, since you- well. I wish…I wish I could have had more time with you both, but- thank you. For being the best parents I could have asked for in the time we had. I hope-”

Tears burned fiery hot in his eyes and the ice in the air was choking him, but Dan struggled on. “I hope that I- I’ve become a son you could be proud of.” He bowed his head, a sob racking his body. “I tried, Mum and Dad…I tried _so hard._ I- I hope it was enough. I love you.”

Memories flashed white-hot behind his eyelids: his father’s eyes crinkled in laughter, his mother’s hands brushing through his hair, flashlight smiles and bedtime stories and love love _love_ and _ourgoldenboy-_

Dan forced himself upright and ran a shaking hand over “ _James and Erica Howell.”_ Snow fell fast and thick around him as he gazed at their names for what felt like years. Finally, Dan whispered one last time- “I love you,” before getting to his feet, wincing as he jostled his still-healing broken rib.

He turned from the grave to see Phil still standing right behind him, blue eyes that were dark with grief and worry immediately latching onto his own. Dan offered him a shadow of a smile before letting himself fall into Phil’s waiting arms.

Turning his head into Phil’s neck, Dan breathed in his scent as long arms folded him closer to Phil’s chest. “I’m so proud of you, Dan,” Phil whispered into his brown curls, and Dan smiled into Phil’s skin. “Are you ready, love?” Phil asked a moment later, and Dan pulled away to nod at him.

Soft sky blue eyes brimmed with tenderness as they traced over Dan’s features carefully before Phil drew away to stand before the grave. Reaching out one careful hand, Phil knelt down and pressed his palm onto the snow-covered ground.

His eyes slipped closed as he concentrated, and Dan watched him, chest tightening with fondness at the sight. When Phil finally drew his hand away, brilliant blue cornflowers had sprung up all around the grave, their bright petals a stark contrast against the snow.

 Dan’s breath hitched at the sight of the familiar flower, its petals so beautifully reminiscent of Phil’s eyes that he had been taken aback by the sight of it the first time he had ever stepped foot in Phil’s shop. Phil stood up and reached out a hand to Dan.

“Let’s go home.” Dan took his hand without hesitation, unable to do anything but smile softly at Phil before he was being led away from his parents’ grave. The gently falling snow had become a blinding sheet of white, but Dan wasn’t worried.

Because-

-Phil’s hand was warm in his, and there were cornflowers around his parents’ grave, and- finally, after ten long years coated in the black dust of grief, Dan could allow the jagged wound of his parents’ deaths begin to heal.

 

_Home-_

The shop’s bell rang out, announcing the arrival of yet another customer. Dan smiled to himself as he kept stirring the potion in front of him, the sound of Phil’s cheerful voice welcoming the customers traveling to the backroom where he was working.

“You think this muscle ache remedy needs some ginger, Peri?” he asked the little black cat that was draped over the windowsill in front of him, soaking up the weak winter sun. “Hmm…maybe Valerian root instead…” he mused to himself, studying the potion.

She blinked at him drowsily, soft contentment drifting between human and cat as the potion bubbled away happily and Phil’s warm voice murmured in the near distance. Dan reached out a hand to stroke down Peri’s spine, filled with yet another rush of gratitude for Phil- who had taken care of her while Dan was in prison.

“Babe?” Phil called out for him, and Dan nearly dropped the bottle of Valerian root at the sound. Just to be sure, he quickly checked that his daily disillusionment charm was still coating his skin and hiding his identity, before following the sound of Phil’s voice.

Dan fought a smile as he walked towards the front of the shop, already rolling his eyes. “No matter how many times you say that, it will never sound cool coming from your mouth,” he responded cheekily as Phil came into view, grinning next to a middle-aged woman and her son.

Phil shrugged, not put off in the slightest. “Whatever you say, babe. So- this little guy wanted to know which plants go into his cough remedy, and you’re the expert here on that.” He turned and knelt next to the little boy, who looked at Phil with starry brown eyes.

“Thomas is super smart and he knows all the plants that go into each remedy. I’m just the gardener, you see.” Unable to hold back a grin at the sight of the little boy who was entranced by every word that came out of Phil’s mouth, Dan knelt down next to them.

“Hello, I’m Thomas. And what’s your name?” he asked gently. The little boy smiled shyly at him, “I’m James.” Dan’s breath hitched at the familiar name, but he kept smiling. “That’s a nice name. Mind if I take a look at that cough remedy you’re holding?”

James nodded and held out the bottle to Dan, who studied it carefully. “Just as I thought- one of my finest creations. This particular cough remedy is a sage tea to help your lungs, and there’s lots of raw honey to make your throat feel better.” Dan handed the bottle back. “The honey is sweet, too,” he added with a wink.

James looked at the bottle in awe. “Thanks, mister,” he said softly, and Dan smiled. “See that plant with the long leaves over next to the windowsill?” He pointed it out to the boy, who nodded. “That’s what I put in your tea to help you stop coughing.”

James stuck out his tongue. “It doesn’t look very yummy,” he said, and Dan laughed. “Don’t worry, that’s what the honey is for- making it taste good.” Reassured, James smiled and waved goodbye to him and Phil before he and his mother strolled out of the shop.

Dan watched them walk away through the window for a moment- _James-_ before he felt arms snake around his waist and tug him backwards into Phil’s chest. “You’re pretty goddamn cute, Thomas,” Phil ducked his head to whisper in Dan’s ear.

Dan wrinkled his nose. “Ew, please don’t call me that when we’re alone. Makes me feel weird.” Phil laughed softly against his skin and merely held him tighter. “Sorry… _Dan.”_ Dan grinned- he would never get tired of hearing his name on Phil’s lips.

The fact that they had to use a fake name in public only made it more precious when he could hear Phil say his given name like it was honey on his tongue. He twisted around to press a kiss to Phil’s lips, but they were both smiling too much for it to really work.

“God, I love you,” Phil murmured into Dan’s lips, who broke away to grin at Phil. “Hmm…you’re alright, I suppose,” he responded, his bright grin ruining any indifference in his teasing words. Phil laughed softly, dark hair messy and summer sky eyes shining as they gazed at Dan.

Their shared shop was bright with sunlight and the petals of obscure flowers, Dan’s remedies filling the shelves with their very ingredients growing right beside them. This new shop was on the other side of London, and it was still unsafe for anyone to know of their magic, and the resistance was still far from complete recovery, but even so-

_Even so-_

Standing there with their arms and hearts hopelessly entangled together, the two witches were sure of little else in the world but they were sure of these things:

Each other, and that-

yes, history can be rewritten.


	28. The Ramble

This story started as a vague idea that I had in the middle of summer about a plant witch in the city…and gradually evolved into this monster. That evolution took a lot of thinking and time, though, and for a long time I didn’t believe I would ever actually finish.

There were _so many_ times I considered just giving up altogether…so THANK YOU to all the lovely people who commented encouragement over the course of this story.

You are the reason I made it to the end, truly.

However, as this story has evolved, so has my writing style- and as a result, rereading my earliest chapters causes me unbearable pain. So I’m thinking of rewriting the first couple chapters to…literally make them interesting? Because they suck, so- do y’all think this is a good idea? Any suggestions?

And finally- thank you to Dan and Phil: the two boys whose pixelated smiles were all that kept me going last spring.

I owe my first story and so much more to you both.


End file.
